


Empire of Dirt (i will make you hurt)

by punchup



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Faith does a lot of drugs and has a lot of questionable sex and makes a lot of bad decisions, Mild non-con, Multi, Really a lot of angst, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punchup/pseuds/punchup
Summary: Set immediately after the events of "Bad Girls" (Season 3x14). I definitely mess with the timeline/timeframe a bit, though it weaves in with the canon periodically.What really happened after the events of "Bad Girls"? I was never satisfied with how little we saw of how Faith spiraled into evil. This fills in the gaps, in a very dark way. There will be Fuffy, but first there will be pain.Warning: this is pretty angsty. Drug abuse, self-hatred, sexual content, trauma, etc. etc. I apologize for Chapter 2.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane/Original Female Character(s), Faith Lehane/Original Male Character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic, so I would really appreciate any and all feedback (including constructive criticism - I can take it).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Faith, you don’t get it,” Buffy said. “You _killed_ a man!”

“No, _you_ don’t get it, B. _I don’t care_.”

Buffy gave her a look, part searching - perhaps for her humanity - part horrified, part something that Faith couldn’t quite pinpoint, something that made her want to smack the blonde slayer, or perhaps collapse into her arms and let her take on the swirl in her head for a change, let someone else be there for once, let someone - let _Buffy_ \- but no.

The moment passed. Buffy turned to go, and Faith pretended to be absorbed doing laundry. She heard the door close behind her, followed by an even louder crack, the crack of the washing machine breaking under grip.

Shit. That’ll be added to my rent I’m sure. Unless no one notices.

With that thought, she gathered her stuff to get away from the scene of the crime.

The scene of the crime. The fire, Buffy fighting, running, someone in her peripheral vision, coming fast, stake up, blood -

 _NO_.

Faith shook her head, as if to clear the swirling images, Buffy’s _NO_ blending in her head with her own, her own mental _NO_ because none of this was real.  
None of this was real. She was a slayer. She did her job. Nothing else mattered - none of it mattered. She just had to keep the images out of her head.

\--

As a rule, Faith didn’t mess with downers - except alcohol, of course. She’d always enjoyed the party drugs, psychedelics, coke. She had to admit even the couple of times she had done meth with Domenic had felt good - though she had seen too much of what that could do to a person. Her mother’s plasticky smell, kissing her goodnight with a nearly toothless smile. Her mother’s Johns, losing interest in the strung-out, emaciated skeleton they paid for, noticing instead the young girl determined to look and act older than she was - as if she knew what being a grown-up meant. Not just letting men fuck you, she knew that now. Now, she let men fuck her for one reason: pleasure. Not validation, not for feelings or intimacy, not for anything but getting her rocks off. Hit ‘em and quit ‘em.

She’d dated - or at least hung around with - deadbeats of all kinds. Cokeheads, meth heads, strung-out hippies with their worldview changing weed and ‘shrooms, and yes, heroin junkies. But until tonight, she’d never touched the needle.

Tonight, she didn’t want the fast-moving thoughts, the conversation, the wild sex. She wanted it gone, all gone, to be gone. She pulled the band with her teeth, then smacked away the hand reaching for her arm.

“I’ll do it,” she snapped. The guy from the Bronze looked skeptical.

“You should really let me do it the first time, sweetheart, there’s a bit of a trick to getting it just right -”

“I’ll do it,” she repeated. A moment of fear flashed in the guy’s face as he saw the look in her eyes. He handed her the needle, and walked her through it.

It stung, and she forced herself not to look away. Truth be told, she might have been a bit looser in her attitude towards heroin if it weren’t for the needles. She’d been bitten, thrown, hit - not always by vamps - and worse. None of it elicited so much as a wince. But needles made her stomach turn over.

But tonight, her stomach was already turning. Churning at the thought of blood - _that’s a laugh_ \- specific blood, his blood, on her hands and shirt and the stake she had burned in a homeless person’s garbage fire on the way to the Bronze to score.

So she pushed the needle in. She leaned back. And with her last clear thought, she thanked God for things that turned you off.

\--

“I’ll get you the money,” Faith said flatly. Aaron, her landlord, didn’t budge from her doorway.

“You don’t get to keep saying that,” he told her.

Unlike the former landlord - Richie? Archie? - Aaron didn’t melt with forgiveness when she batted her dark and brooding lashes. Fuck those vamps that killed poor Richie. Or Archie. Anyway, she still felt woozy from the night before, and she didn't feel up to flirting her way out of this one. Not now.

“I swear, I’ll get you the money, I’ll have it tomorrow.” She tried to avoid sounding like she was pleading, but a desperate fear clutched at her. Yes, she could take care of herself out there, but being a homeless teenage girl was not fun - even for a Slayer. And there was no way she’d get another place, even as seedy and foul as this one, with the 38 cents in the pocket of her leather jacket.

Aaron had an amused look on his face, as though he found her desperation funny. Her fists shook with the effort not to punch him, to slam him into the wall, to pull her pocket knife out of its hidden pocket in her jacket and hold it to his throat and let him know where the real power was -

“I’ll give you ‘til tomorrow,” he said, interrupting her fantasy. “But,” he held up a finger as she started to close the door. “But, I have a key to this place. If I don’t see the full amount by 3pm tomorrow, I will be taking all of your...possessions...as collateral.”

For the first time he looked a little doubtful as he scanned the room - apparently her “possessions” weren’t up to snuff. But the threat had worked - little though it may be, those possessions were the only things Faith had. A leather jacket, a denim jacket, a couple of tank tops and pants. And a tiny wolf figurine tucked into a pair of her thickest socks. She couldn’t lose that.

As soon as she closed the door, Faith sunk to ground. Her hands shook. She knew if she spoke, her voice would shake too. But of course, she had no one to speak to anyway.

 _Weak. Worthless._

She had to get that money. She couldn’t be on the street, not now.

Thoughts sped through her head like bullets.

 _Buffy?_ Jesus christ, no - the girl was already on the verge of turning her over to the cops, probably thought she was scum, worthless, damaged, murdering scum, she couldn’t ask her for money. Not that. She wouldn’t add “pathetic” to the list of things the other Slayer thought about her.

 _You could just take it_. A gas station - a robbery. Her stomach turned at the thought. She couldn’t afford to bring the cops down on her. What if it went wrong, what if someone got hurt?

_Blood. Human blood._

_Weak. Pathetic._

Faith closed her eyes. She knew what she had to do. She had known it from the moment she closed the door on Aaron.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith needs to make money, fast.
> 
> A rough encounter in an alley gets her a little more than she bargained for. In more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically just porn, and definitely not vanilla. Very mild non-con elements.

Her tall black boots made a loud “clack” on the sidewalk as she walked. She rarely wore these anymore - bad for sneaking up on vamps. But paired with her sheer black stockings, the only skirt she owned - black leather, of course - and a low-cut white tank. And her leather jacket, of course. With the knife safely tucked in the inner pocket, alongside the wolf figurine she had taken out of her socks. Just in case.

She kept her head down but her eyes moving, watching for trouble, or an opportunity. A group of men whistled at her as she passed, making lewd remarks about her muscular legs. But they weren’t the type to put their money where their mouth was. She knew what she was looking for. This wasn’t the first time she’d been strapped for cash and needing to avoid a run-in with the law.

As she rounded the next corner, she saw a man on the other side of the street, sitting in his nondescript, slightly rusty, once-blue car. Though she couldn’t see much of him, he looked like the right kind. She could tell he was tall, probably nearing middle age, and wealthier than the car would lead you to believe - his hat and coat, in contrast, appeared brand new and well-made. He even wore a tie.

“Looking for some company?” She leaned her head towards his window, bending at the waist to give him the best view of her chest. And to make sure it was clear what she was offering.

_ Disgusting. Pathetic. _

“Aren’t you a little young for me?” The man had a smooth voice. Not a first-timer, then - no shaky voice or furtive glances around. She was glad of that. She had no patience for walking a nervous fool through his first prostitute.

“Men on this corner usually like ‘em young,” she shot back. 

“What’s your rate?” Straight to business. Good. She wasn’t really in the mood to flirt, either. 

“Depends. What do you want?”

He looked straight into her eyes with an intensity she had rarely seen in a John before.

“I want to shove you into the brick wall behind that dumpster and fuck you until you scream.”

Faith forced her face not to show any surprise. Usually that question was simply answered with a “blowjob”, or some hem-hawing about wanting to call her Denise and have her act like his step-daughter. The directness, and the vulgarity, gave Faith a bit of a low-down tingle.

“That’s $400,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty steep.”

“You want this or not?” she snapped. She saw real arousal cross his face for the first time. 

_ Classic. Turned on by the attitude. _

“You go wait for me behind that dumpster. I’ll be there in a moment.”

\--

Faith lit a cigarette as she walked to the alley. She told herself this was nothing - just doing what she’d probably do anyway, but this time not for nothing. A rough fuck in a dirty alleyway was just her style, anyway.  _ Disgusting. Filthy.  _ At least she didn’t have to pretend to be someone’s step-daughter Denise.

The man came around the corner quickly, taking Faith a little bit by surprise.  _ How did you not hear him? You’re supposed to be a Slayer. _

“You know smoking will kill you,” he said roughly.

“Good,” she said, taking another pull. He slammed the hand holding the cigarette into the wall behind her, making it fall from her fingers.

“ _ Hey!”  _ she protested. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her into the wall, and bent his face low to her ear.

“Until I get mine, you don’t talk back to me,” he hissed. Faith felt the overwhelming urge to push him off, to punch him, to send him flying with a kick to the chest and show him just who he was dealing with - 

_ Just get the $400. It’s just dirty talk, foreplay. You can always kill him if he goes too far. _

_ Stake. Blood. The river loud in her ears -  _

The man brought his other hand up to her face, wrenching it towards him violently.

_ Yes. Hurt me. _

“Do you hear me?” he hissed. She nodded. He dropped the hand. “Good. Now unbuckle my belt. 

She dropped to her knees and did as he asked. He helped her slide his pants down just a bit, and free him from his underwear. He was not quite the largest Faith had seen - not by a couple - but he was certainly above average.

“Suck it,” he commanded. She obeyed immediately. 

_ Filthy.  _

“Oh, you are a little slut, aren’t you?” he said. Faith nearly laughed, but passed it off as a gag.  _ You’re paying me for this. Of course I’m a slut. _

“That’s right, choke on my fucking cock you filthy whore.” He slammed into her face again and again, driving all the way back with each thrust, grunting animalistically. Then suddenly, he stopped. Faith barely had time to gasp for breath before he wrenched her up by her hair, causing her to shout in pain.

_ You deserve pain. _

The man pushed her back into the wall, hiking up her skirt and ripping her stockings roughly. She hadn’t bothered wearing underwear.

With a savage look on his face, the John pushed two fingers roughly into her.

“Soaking wet,” he sneered. “Tell me how much you want my cock in you.”

She shot him an angry look. Okay, sure, she was a hooker for the night - but she never begged. 

“Ah!” she cried as he twisted the hair in his hand, pulling her neck back at an awkward angle. His other hand was still in her cunt, and he began moving his fingers in and out. Her knees shook visibly, and she moaned. Removing his hand from her hair, he let her head down and placed it instead around her throat.

“Tell me,” he demanded again as she pushed her hips to meet his hand, desperate for more. She could feel her juices running down her inner thigh.

“No,” she hissed.

His left hand - the one giving her such pleasure - stopped suddenly. She was horrified to hear herself let out a small whimper. 

_ Pathetic.  _

His right hand, however, tightened around her neck.

“ _ No?”  _ he repeated. 

“Stop - ” Faith gasped, her breath impeded by the hand tightening over her throat. 

“Tell. Me. What. You. Want.” he said deliberately, with finality. He pushed his fingers back into her, curling them into a hook. He pulled them towards him, making her gasp in both pleasure and pain. And need.

“ _ Fuck me,”  _ she breathed with what breath she had left. Immediately, his hand loosened - though it didn’t let go.

“I didn’t hear that,” he said.  _ Liar _ .

“Please, please fuck me,” Faith said, her voice sounding almost whiny.

_ Disgusting. Pathetic. _

The John smiled. The urge to hit him grew in Faith stronger than ever, but before she could make a move he spun her around to face the wall. Pulling her back a few steps, he then shoved her shoulders roughly towards the wall. 

“Lean against the wall, stick that tight little pussy out,” he demanded. Glad he couldn’t see her face anymore - and she didn’t have to see his - she did as he said.

The first thrust was rougher than she expected. Maybe he wasn’t the biggest she’d been with, but he certainly had a certain edge. She felt her core convulse as he slammed into her cervix, but the pain blended into pleasure immediately. She felt a warmth rising in her, pushing her to climax.

“That’s it, slut, come on my fucking cock,” he hissed. And as though on cue, she did as he asked, grunting and moaning as her cunt spasmed uncontrollably around him. She rode it out, face now pressed against the wall from the strength of his onslaught, beads of sweat forming on her face.

“ _ Good _ ,” he whispered in her ear. “My turn.”

He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her head back, stretching her back and neck painfully. His thrusts increased in speed and he grunted with each one. She could hear her own grunt next to his, as the force of his thrusts pushed air out with each one.

Then he collapsed onto her back. She could feel his sperm shooting into her -  _ fuck, definitely going to need an STD panel after this -  _ and the labored breathing of both them. 

The John straightened up, and Faith turned around, prepared to give chase if he tried taking off without paying. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he had not been entirely up front about what he wanted. Then again, this was the first time she’d had a real orgasm from a John. She hoped he would read her red face as the exertion.

“You were great, doll,” he said in the same smooth voice she had first heard. One she hadn’t heard again until just now.

“Not your doll,” she said automatically.

“Sure seemed like it to me.” Faith glared at him. The worst part was, she knew he was right.

“My money?” His corner of his mouth turned up at the edge in her voice. She clenched a fist, but held back from giving him the wallop he had coming.

“Of course, dear.” He pulled a wad of rolled up cash out of his coat and handed it to her. It looked crisp, just-came-from-the-bank new. She counted it quickly.

“Satisfied?” he asked. She didn’t answer - she was done here.

_ $600. That’s enough for rent and a score tonight. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close to canon in "Consequences", in which Faith and Buffy butt heads over what to do in the aftermath of Finch's death.

“So - you gonna rat me out, that it?” Faith tried her best to sound angry, indignant, and not terrified.

“Faith, we have to tell,” Buffy said. 

Picking a spot above Buffy’s head to avoid looking her in the eye, Faith folded her arms and shook her head, trying to look nonchalant.  _ I can’t go to prison. I can’t lose everything again, I can’t lose  _ this.

“I am trying to protect you,” Buffy was saying.  _ Yeah, right. And why on Earth would you do that? I’m already the bad slayer, the slutty slayer, the unnecessary, accidental slayer that never should have been. It wouldn’t hurt you one bit to have me out of the picture.  _ “Faith, what we did…”

“Yeah,  _ we.  _ You were there too. Anything I have to answer for, you do too. You’re a part of this, B, all the way.” 

_ If I’m going to Hell, why shouldn’t I have company? _

_ Cruel. Pathetic.  _

Faith turned and fled the room before Buffy could see the tears prick her eyes. She knew she had to go “investigate” Finch’s death -  _ Finch. A man with a name and a life and blood, human blood in his veins, not anymore...STOP IT.  _ Shaking her head furiously to quell the onslaught of unwelcome thoughts, Faith found herself running, hitting the sidewalk at Slayer speed. She ran flat-out, moving so fast she barely noticed the student she bowled over on the way, barely noticed the streets she crossed without even looking for cars, barely noticed anything until she found herself on the outskirts of town.

Though she knew she’d have to see Buffy again that evening, she found herself not caring so much about keeping up appearances. After all, Buffy already knew what she did. Buffy already knew what she was. So what did it matter if she showed up drunk or high? Thank God Sunnydale was rife with seedy bars that would serve an underage girl in a heartbeat if she showed enough skin. She had hours to kill before seeing Buffy again, anyway.

#

Buffy had asked Faith to meet her at the cemetery closest to City Hall, so she could do a quick patrol before heading in. As Faith turned the corner, already 15 minutes late, she saw a blur of yellow hair, followed by a  _ thud  _ and a  _ crack  _ as a headstone shattered.

“Buffy!” she shouted, breaking into a run. Launching over a headstone, she lunged at the vamp moving towards the other Slayer, hitting him at full speed and tackling him to the ground. As she reached around for a stick, a twig, anything wood to stake the guy with -  _ where’s your fucking stake, you idiot? -  _ he squirmed away, kicking out as he did so. His boot connected with Faith’s face, knocking her backwards with a wicked ringing in her ears.

Shaking her head to clear it, she scrambled to her feet. She looked over to where Buffy had hit the headstone, and saw the other Slayer trading blow with a second vamp. She looked okay though, not badly injured from where she’d hit the stone.  _ Thank god for Slayer recovery times. _

With the vamp advancing quickly, Faith had little time to dodge before he was swinging at her head. She dodged the brunt of the blow, but took it in the shoulder instead, flying into a tombstone.  _ Their gonna have some clean-up to do in this cemetery. _

“Slayer, huh?” the vamp sneered as Faith struggled up again. “I’ve heard  _ great  _ things about Slayer blood…” he snarled and lunged, but this time Faith was able to catch him before he hit her, grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him back. He sent another kick flying her way, but she ducked out of the way, preparing to bring it back around with a roundhouse to the face…

_ FUCK _ . Faith lost her balance, stumbling over a tree root and hitting the ground again.  _ Fucking Zachariah Harris cheap fucking bourbon bullshit.  _

The vamp laughed.

“Had a bit too much to drink tonight, doll?” 

_ Doll. ‘You were great, doll.’  _ With a snarl to rival his own, Faith lunged headfirst at the laughing vamp, who quickly scrambled backwards. She took him to the ground, heart pumping, blood rushing to her head in both anger and the familiar, warm heat of the fight. Straddling him, she pinned him to the ground, grabbing a stick and breaking it in half, and plunging it into his chest. He didn’t dust.

Their eyes met, both in surprise.  _ You’ve never missed the heart. You don’t just  _ miss.

The vamp took the opportunity to heave his body over, rolling them so he pinned her instead.

“Nice try, doll,” he sneered. “Oh!”

With a final exclamation of surprise, the vamp turned to dust, revealing Buffy standing behind him, stake in hand.

“Thanks, B!” said Faith with excessive congeniality as she took Buffy’s proffered hand and pulled herself up. “That’s Buffy, always there when you need a helping hand!” Her voice was strained and strange even to her own ear.

“Are you ok?” Buffy asked softly.

“I’m five-by-five, B. What, that little scuffle? Normal day on the job.”  _ Jesus christ you sound like a stressed out housewife on Thanksgiving, complete with the booze slurring. Pull it together. _

“I’m not talking about the vamp,” Buffy said.

Faith took a deep breath, focusing on speaking in a measured, normal tone. “I’m totally fine, B. Just itchin’ to a get a little Nancy Drew on this guy, aren’t you?”

“Alright, let’s just get this over - hang on.” Buffy had taken a step closer to Faith, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. “Have you been drinking?” Her hand now hovered an inch above her skin. 

_ She doesn’t even want to  _ touch  _ you, you disgust her so much.  _

Faith took a step back. “No more than usual,” she attempted to joke. It fell flat.

“Faith, I can smell it on you. In your breath, even in your sweat...Jesus christ, is that how you spent the afternoon while I was prepping for this mission?” Her voice shifted from concern and alarm to indignance, and Faith felt a swell of anger rise in her chest.

“Oh, classic Buffy,” she snarled. “Isn’t it just a little funny that when it comes to everyone around you, you’re the center of the moral compass, you’re due North, pointing the way for all us  _ lesser  _ beings, but when it comes to, oh I don’t know, hiding your hunny in a fuckin’ fortress so you can play Buffy-the-Vampire-Stepford-wife, until of course you get a little too freaky, if you know what I mean, and he - ”

“ _ Enough.”  _ Buffy’s voice was barely audible, but she spoke with such intensity that Faith found the rest of her words stuck in her throat. 

“I’m sorry, B,” she said.. “I just...look, B, I just don’t need the 5th degree - ”

“3rd degree.”

“Whatever. I’m cool, ok B? I just want to do our job. You of all people oughtta get that.” She hoped she could divert Buffy’s attention with the mission at hand. It worked.

“Alright,” Buffy acquiesced. “But eventually, Faith, you have to - ”

“Figure out what this guy was doing following us around? I totally agree,” Faith said, heading quickly towards the door. She could hear a pause behind her, then Buffy’s footsteps jogging to catch up.

#

Leaving City Hall, Faith felt the booze wearing off, leaving her tired and worn-feeling. She’d have to fix that. Nevertheless, she also felt relief - Finch hadn’t been entirely innocent.  _ Not that anyone’s truly ‘innocent’. _

“So, no files or incriminating documents, but...I’m thinkin’ the Mayor’s got some skeleton bones clankin’ around in his closet, if you know what I mean,” Faith said to Buffy. “Possibly literally,” she added thoughtfully.

Buffy nodded but didn’t answer. Faith wanted to say something, searched for words, but in the end walked in silence. They were passing through the main drag of town to report back to Giles when Buffy stopped.

“Faith, you could have gotten both of us killed back there. I know you’re struggling, and I know why, but - ”

“I’m not struggling.” Buffy raised an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored this. “Yes, you are. I know what you’re feeling, because I’m feeling it too,” she continued, her voice cracking. Anger swelled in Faith.  _ You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You don’t know me, B. You want to save me? You don’t know the first thing about me. _

“You don’t know a damn thing,” she said.

“Faith, this has to stop. I can what it’s doing to you, you’re not yourself - ”

“No, B, I  _ am  _ myself. For the first time since I rolled into this quaint little storybook nightmare town, I’m feeling like myself. I’m done playing by these stupid rules - aren’t you fuckin’  _ sick  _ of taking orders from some old British dudes who haven’t even popped their vamp cherry?”

“This isn’t about the council, Faith, it’s not even about the law - it’s about what’s  _ right.” _

“Oh, good, I needed another lesson from holier-than-thou Buffy, Jesus Christ in a cheerleader’s body preachin’ the good word to us lowly, lesser beings. You know what, B? I think the reason this bugs you so much is that you know I’m right. You know we’re not like other people, that we have a gift, and you’re afraid that if you let yourself use it, you’ll never be able to stop.” Faith stepped closer to Buffy, bringing her face within inches of hers. “But maybe, B, that’s exactly what you need. To take what you want, for once.”

For a long moment, the two Slayers remained silent, eyes locked. Then Buffy pulled back. 

“No,” she said. “This isn’t about what I want. This is about what you need.”

“All I need is for you to climb down outta my ass,” Faith said angrily, turning away. “I’m not doing this with you. Sort your shit out your way then, but sort it out. I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh yeah, like some seedy bar?” Buffy called to Faith’s retreating back. Faith didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably start straying from canon a bit more, but we'll see. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an uncharacteristic move, Faith sleeps with someone she actually kind of likes.

Faith paced back and forth in her dingy motel room. She paused to stomp on a cockroach, squishing it under the thick platform of her combat boots, turning her foot back and forth until it no longer resembled anything living, even formerly.

_ Disgusting. _

She tried to calm her thoughts.  _ You did what you had to do - accidents happen. You can’t wait and check for a pulse on every shadowy figure before launching into action.  _

_ Buffy’s freaking, but she won’t tell. She has your back.  _

_ Except that she has everything to lose. And you have nothing.  _

_ But it’s  _ Buffy,  _ if there were ever anyone who actually had your back, it’s her. _

_ Maybe there just isn’t anyone to have your back. Ever think of that? _

With a scream, Faith threw the bedside lamp against the wall, leaving a gaping hole. Someone next door thumped on the thin wall, yelling “keep it down!”

_ Why would Buffy keep your secret? Why would she ever choose you over Giles, the witch-bitch, any of her precious Scooby gang? _

_ She wouldn’t. _

_ She’s probably telling them all about it right now, make sure they know it wasn’t her, it wasn’t perfect Buffy making a mistake, it’s Faith the Fuck-Up. _

Faith stopped pacing and slid down the wall, head in her hands. For once, she didn’t try to stop the sobs from wracking her body, or the tears falling freely from her eyes.

#

Faith stood outside the Bronze, listening to the sounds within. Music, laughter, the sound of footsteps and bodies moving in rhythm. The sounds of life. She watched a young couple stumble out, hands all over each other, laughing. They didn’t notice her in the shadows, too absorbed as they were in each other’s lips.

She wasn’t sure why she’d come here. She had just needed desperately to get out of the motel room. She had hoped going back into the world, seeing other people, would make her feel more real. More connected. Of course she had been wrong. Standing outside of this building teeming with life, she felt as though she were looking at the world through a thick pane of glass - distorted, separated, far away and unfamiliar.

Suddenly, Faith became aware of a figure moving towards her from her right, keeping in the shadows. She stiffened, reaching for the pocket that contained her stake and her knife, then relaxed as the shadowy figure spoke.

“Haven’t seen you around in a couple of days,” the voice said. She recognized it as the voice of the man she had gotten the heroin from - Davey, if she remembered correctly.

“I don’t remember saying I would be,” she answered testily. He put his hands up in front of his chest in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean anythin’ by it,” he said. He reached into his pocket - Faith stiffened for a moment again - then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to her. She took it.

Faith procured her Zippo - engraved with the letters  _ HL _ \- and tried to light her smoke. It wasn’t a cold night, but a wind whipped down the alley and blew it out. 

_ “Damn it _ ,” she swore, turning her back to the wind and putting her left hand up to block it. 

“Here,” Davey said, moving forward quickly. Instinctively, Faith stepped back, but he stopped just in front of her, and reached his hands out gently, cupping them around the end of her cigarette. Faith thumbed the lighter once more, and this time it stayed lit.

As Davey pulled his hands away, his fingertips brushed the back of the hand holding the lighter. Faith shivered.

“Thanks,” she said. He grunted an acknowledgement and lit his own.

“How you been?” Davey asked, a little lamely. Looking closely at him for the first time, Faith realized he looked much more awake than the last time they’d met. His eyes, which had struck her as haggard and drooping before, gazed at her with a bright clarity. They were the same shade of green as Buffy’s, Faith realized with a jolt.

“Livin’ the dream,” she said.

He winced. “That bad, huh?” 

“Just the way it goes, ain’t it?” He nodded thoughtfully at that, as though Faith had said something quite profound.

“You here by yourself?” he asked after a moment of silence. Normally, a question like this would have Faith on high alert - but something about this scruffy young man put Faith at ease. Not entirely at ease, of course, but her Fight-or-Flight system stayed bubbling under the surface, easily ignored for the time being.

“For now,” she told him. He smiled a little, a motion that made his street-worn face look instantly younger. He reminded Faith of the scruffy stray mutt that had frequented the alley behind her house in Boston. Though he had been mostly a useless mooch, coming to her for food scraps and ear scratches, she couldn’t forget the time she had run out of the house, her mother screaming at her on her heels. When her mom caught up to her, she had grabbed her arm painfully, yanking her back towards the house. The mutt had immediately come running full-pelt down the alley, barking and snapping until her mother jumped back. By the time Faith came back a few days later, her mother had forgotten about the fight entirely, but Faith made sure to save the choicest morsels of beef and pork for the alley dog. 

“You...okay?” a voice brought her back from memory lane. Davey looked at her with raised eyebrows. “You look a little dazed.”

Making a decision, Faith snapped her attention back to him, carefully arranging her face in a smile.

“You know, I’m not such a huge fan of this band,” she said, tossing her head towards the Bronze. “Bit sleepy for me, y’know? I’m more of a…”

“Black Sabbath kind of girl?”

“I was gonna say Radiohead, but sure. Anyway, not my scene, gonna ditch. Wanna come?”

Davey grinned. It struck Faith that when they’d met before, he must have been pretty far gone already. He seemed far more lively now, a person behind eyes that had previously been curtained windows.

#

They filled the silence easily. Faith took refuge in the persona of her non-Slayer self. It had been an act of sorts since the day her powers were activated, and she found sweet relief in slipping into it again. Much easier than trying to be herself, and failing again and again.

“Alright, I’m gonna warn ya, my place is...well, it’s got that wrong-side-of-the-tracks charm, if y’know what I mean.”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “I mean...does  _ anything  _ about me give you the impression I even know what the right side of the tracks looks like?”

Faith considered him for a moment. “That’s a fair point,” she conceded. “Trust me, ain’t half as much fun. I’ve visited.” 

Davey laughed at that, but they said no more as Faith unlocked the door to her room and ushered him dramatically inside.

“My  _ luxury  _ abode,” she said, rolling the vowels off her tongue in her best posh impression. The impression was mostly based on Giles and Wesley, the only Brits she knew. Her former Watcher had been Irish.

“It’s  _ lovely.  _ The decór, the ambiance...simply superb,” Davey gushed in his own painful impression.

“And you’re telling me you’ve never even stepped foot on the other side of the tracks?”

“The record will show that I never  _ actually  _ said that,” he said, a bit mysteriously. Faith eyed him carefully, trying to decide if he was hiding something, making fun of her, or simply making a joke. He looked back at her with wide, green puppy-dog eyes, and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It struck Faith suddenly that she and Davey had not actually fucked before. A strange thing to have forgotten, but forgotten she had. Truth be told, she had fully planned on it, or at least expected him to make a move. But he had just given her the heroin, done his own, and been asleep - or unconscious, at any rate - when she left. Perhaps he’d been too fucked up then to get it on. She doubted he would have come back with her if he wasn’t interested in what she had to offer.

Nevertheless, the thought gave Faith a tingle of doubt. She prided herself on her seeming irresistibility to most men - questionable, sleazy men, sure, but still.

“So,” she said, advancing on him in a slightly predatory way. He had seated himself on the edge of her bed, so he was now looking up at her. “What now?”

She could hear his breath hitch as she came within breathing distance of him, leaning down as he leaned back just a small amount. When her face was mere centimeters from his, he closed his eyes, leaning forward. But she dodged his lips, swiftly leaning instead to the side and down, digging under the bed for a moment before producing a bottle of her best liquor - a $6.99 bottle of Evan Williams.

Laughing at his bewildered expression, Faith unscrewed the cap and took a large gulp, grimacing as it burned her throat. Then she held out the bottle, which Davey took, now joining her in laughter.

“Bit mean,” he commented as he took a drink of his own.

“Did anything about me give you the impression I was nice?” she asked.

“Fair point,” he acquiesced. 

Approaching him once more, Faith took the bottle from his hand and pushed him slowly onto his back. Slowly, but firmly.

“Want to find out how mean I can be?” she asked, running her hands up his chest and to his neck, where she cupped one hand to pull his head towards her. He didn’t answer, but perhaps that was because his lip was now between Faith’s teeth.

Grinding her hips against his, Faith broke the kiss, letting his head fall back to the bed. She kissed down his jawline to his neck, where she paused to give him a quick nip - a move she was sure some shrink would find fascinating - then slid down his body.

He helped her take his shirt off, sitting up as she pushed it up his body. He had the sharp body tone of a junkie, every muscle and bone defined not through exercise, but through sheer lack of body fat. She kissed down his chest and abs, sliding off the end of the bed as she got to his belt buckle.

“I thought you were going to be mean,” Davey murmured, eyes still closed and head relaxed on the bed. Without a word, she undid his belt and pulled his slightly dirty khaki pants down, releasing a now-mostly-erect cock.

Taking it in her mouth, Faith dragged her teeth as lightly as possible along his length, eliciting a rather high whimper from him.

Grabbing the shaft with one hand, she began working the head with her tongue, staying shallow at first and gauging his reaction. He groaned, and Faith couldn’t help but smirk a little. Men were so easy.

Redoubling her efforts, she began working her hand and mouth in conjunction, bobbing up and down with increasing speed. With her other hand, she cupped his balls, squeezing just a bit harder than she would have had she not promised to be mean. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bring herself to actually hurt him - at least not unless he said he wanted that, as some did.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he groaned, trying to thrust his hips up to meet her.

“Oh no you don’t,” Faith said, pulling away from him, instead taking his balls lightly in her other hand.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her.

“You  _ are  _ mean,” he said, then let out another whimper as she squeezed her hand around him.

“Too mean?” she asked. 

“ _ God  _ no,” he said.

“Good.”

Not usually much of a kisser during sex, Faith surprised herself by meeting his lips. He returned the kiss ardently, pushing past her slightly-parted lips with his tongue. When they broke apart again, he was a little breathless. Faith made a note not to push his stamina too far - it was easy to forget that she had the Slayer perks going for her.

“My turn,” said Davey, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her to the side, rolling with her so he ended up on top. Just as she had a few minutes before, he helped her remove her top - an ancient black tank top that she didn’t usually wear for any intimate trysts - and kissed all the way down her body. He took one of her breasts in his hand and squeezed gently, eliciting a moan of her own as his stubble brushed against her navel.

He took his time, first slowly removing her leather pants, then her underwear. Even then, he had yet to touch her now-tingling sex, instead kissing the inner-most part of her thighs, first on one side, then the other. She shivered at the gentle caresses of his lips, unused to such slow, patient moves.

Then she gasped as he finally touched her, his face buried deep between her thighs, his tongue working with practiced motions at her clit. With one of his hands, he continued massaging her inner thigh, heightening the growing feeling of warmth throughout her core. 

After a moment, he lifted his head, wetting two fingers with his mouth and slipping them inside of her. She let out a low moan as he began working them within her, at first tentatively, as though searching, then more earnestly as she began grinding her hips against his hand. 

“Oh god, do  _ exactly  _ that,” she said breathlessly as he found that perfect spot, not quite finger-fucking her, but stroking with a gentle, rhythmic motion. She felt her knees tremble and heard her breath hitch as her orgasm grew.

“FUCK,” she yelled as the orgasm wracked her body, sending a convulsive wave throughout her entire being. He continued his steady motion, his other hand reaching up to massage a breast, until the trembling had passed and her breathing returned to normal.

“That was...incredibly hot,” he said. Faith was horrified to feel a slight blush tinge her cheeks.  _ The fuck is that? You don’t blush at the most depraved shit, and now some junkie compliments you on vanilla foreplay and you’re suddenly blushin’ Betty? _

To mask her embarrassment, Faith pulled Davey roughly to her, kissing him deeply, unbothered by the taste of her own sex on his lips.

“I can make it hotter,” she told him, rolling him back to their original position - though this time a bit more roughly.

Without bothering to tease and torment - though she had initially planned to - Faith guided him into her, letting out a hiss of pleasure as he slipped easily inside. She began to ride him, reaching up and grabbing the headboard for support and then leaning back, so that as he slid back into her with each thrust she could feel him stroking that spot again, now with a different appendage.

She was pleased to see his eyes roll back in pleasure as she rode him, using every muscle in her core she could control to squeeze and release at the right times. He grunted in time with her movements, moving his hips to meet her, alternating closing his eyes, and watching her face as she built up to another orgasm.

Just as her breath began to grow louder, moans escaping her throat, he grabbed her hips, slowing her pace and thrusting deeply into her. She gasped with each thrust, and felt her inner walls clench around him as she came again, spasming out of her control.

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” he breathed as she came. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Seized with an unexpected desire, Faith opened her own eyes and looked down at him, cupping his head.

“Look at me when you come,” she breathed, kissing him deeply and then pulling back, so she could meet his eyes.

He gazed at her intently, still thrusting with an increasing rhythm. Their eyes remained locked until his slid out of focus for a moment, rolling upwards as he let out an almost pained-sounding grunt.

She could feel him spasming inside her as he came, his eyes slowly re-focusing on her face. She grinned.

“Honestly,” he said breathlessly, still inside her. “Not that mean in the end.”

#

Though Faith had begun to genuinely like this scruffy, scrawny junkie, she wasn’t about to cuddle. Nevertheless, she hadn’t kicked him out, either. They both had their heads leaned up against the headboard, passing the liquor back and forth between them, catching their breath.

“Bit less chatty now that you’ve got what you wanted,” Faith teased after a long silence. Davey looked at her, a slightly surprised expression on his face.

“Oh, right,” he said, not quite meeting her own light tone. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said after another moment, shaking his head as though to rid himself of an unwanted thought. “That was  _ phenomenal _ . I think I just need a little pick-me-up.”

He stood, pulling on his pants and picking his battered jacket up off the ground. He dug around for a moment, then produced a small vial. 

“Do you mind?” he asked her.

“By all means,” she said. “I think you already know I’m not exactly a tee-totaller.”

He wiped off a portion of the dresser with the sleeve of his jacket, and tapped out a small pile of white powder. From another pocket of the jacket, he produced a razor blade and foul-looking dollar bill. Using the former, he cut a line of the powder, and using the latter, inhaled it with professional efficiency.

“You want some?” he asked, holding the rolled-up bill out to her. She got up and pulled her underwear on, then took the bill from him. He cut her a line - rather smaller than his own, which she chose to attribute to his tolerance, not stinginess - then dabbed the remainder of the powder off the counter with a finger and running it along his gums. 

After she did her line, Faith pulled her tank top back on.

“So, uh...what did I just do?” she asked, gesturing towards the now less-full vial. He looked both surprised and a little impressed - or perhaps concerned - that she hadn’t bothered asking that  _ before  _ taking it.

“It’s just coke,” he told her. “Or at least, that’s what my dealer claims. Y’never know what you’re gonna get with that scene though.”

“Thought you were a heroin guy,” she said casually.  _ Was that rude? _

He laughed. “Sometimes I prefer a pick-me-up to a put-me-down,” he answered.

Faith grinned. She felt good - this guy was a dope, the kind of guy she would usually sneer at, frankly, but there was something about his openness and sincerity that made her feel kind towards him - almost protective.

_ That’s the most dangerous kind of person. That’s how you get a knife in the heart as well as the back. _

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Faith jumped up. “Let’s do something,” she said.

“I’m pretty sure we just did something,” Davey answered wryly. She gave him a disapproving look.

“Not that. Let’s go somewhere. Back to the Bronze, or something.”

#

To Faith’s absolute delight, the sleepy band from earlier in the night had packed it up. Their replacement wasn’t exactly great, but they were loud, and heavy with guitar and drums.

Topping off her mood with a nostril full of powder in the alley, Faith and Davey went in. Few people were seated or talking, but the dance floor was full.

“LET’S DANCE!” Faith yelled over the clamor of drums and voices. Not bothering to strain his voice, Davey just nodded. She led him to the dance floor, and closed her eyes, letting the press of people pull her in and losing herself in the mass of moving bodies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a lot of talking and thinking. And feelings and angst.

“Ok, ok, but here me out,” Faith was saying. “We’re just animals, too, right? I mean, what do we want: food, shelter, and sex. The constants in every species. But what sets us two-legs apart? Besides mad overgrown senses of morality. Among some.”

“Our brains,” Davey answered. “I mean we’re - ”

“Super smart?” Faith laughed. “Gimme a break. No, seriously, be honest here: can you really look around this lovely little world and tell me we’re  _ smarter  _ than, I don’t know, a mountain lion. Wanderin’ around, killing just what she needs to eat, avoiding humans as much as possible - ”

“I mean, yeah - but mountain lions didn’t invent like...airplanes. Or math.”

“Did you?” she asked pointedly. Davey frowned.

“I mean, not personally obviously, but those are  _ human _ \- ”

“Do you know that for sure?” Now Davey looked genuinely confused. “I’m just sayin’, a lot of things we self-absorbed humans like to think of as ‘ours’ really didn’t come from us. But that’s neither here nor there. The  _ point _ is, intelligence is hard to gauge. Whatever we have or haven’t invented, there’s plenty of idiotic examples to tip the balance.”

“Okay...I’m not sayin’ I agree, mind you, but let’s just say you’re right. It’s not intelligence, or...I don’t know, resourcefulness or whatever. Then what  _ does  _ set humans apart? What explains why we live so differently from our animal brethren.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ so  _ differently,” Faith said, winking. “Okay, lemme lay it out for you. Hang on.” Pausing, she got up from the floor of Davey’s apartment and tapped out another line on the counter. After she did her line, she sat back on the floor cross-legged, looking intently at Davey.

“Okay, here’s the big, ugly, final truth that us humans never want to admit, the big thing that keeps each and every one of us going: power.”

“Power,” Davey repeated. Faith nodded.

“Power. Like, airplanes for example. You wanna say that the guy who invented the airplane - ”

“Guys,” Davey said. “The Wright brothers. Sorry, go on.”

“Right...anyway, you wanna say the  _ guys  _ who invented the airplane did it to...what? Prove their intelligence? Did it out of some pure love of knowledge and progress? I don’t think so, buddy. Every great invention was invented for power. Power over gravity, power over other people, power over anything really. It’s the one thing that drives every single human out there.”

“Or,” Davey said slowly. “What sets humans apart is...curiosity. That drive to do something just to see if it can be done. To test limits and learn…”

Faith looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, Davey, I’m kinda surprised - and impressed, don’t get me wrong - that you’ve made it this far in life with that kinda naive optimism. No offence.”

Davey grinned. “Said like a truly jaded, bitter soul.” 

Faith punched him in the arm, apologizing when he winced. Slayer powers. Whoops.

“I just call it like I see it,” she said.

“That’s what all jaded, bitter souls say.” 

Faith smiled, then looked out towards the window.

“Oh, fuck!” she yelled, jumping up. Davey looked at her, wide-eyed.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he asked, clambering to his feet.

“Ah, I have to patr- er, I was supposed to meet a friend. Ah  _ fuck _ , she’s not gonna be happy, I really gotta go.” 

Halfway out the door, Faith paused, spun around, and kissed Davey on the cheek. Something she thought she had probably not done to a guy since she was a kid.

“Let’s do this again soon, yeah?” With a bemused look, Davey just nodded and saw her out.

#

Thanking god that Davey lived not too far from the cemetery she and Buffy were to meet at, Faith sprinted down the street.  _ You fucking idiot, she’s already convinced you’re a total fuck-up, you keep this up and there’s no way she won’t rat you out. _

“Hey B!” she called, slowing her speed as she approached the cemetery. The blonde turned, her expression halfway between anger and fear. 

“Where the  _ hell  _ have you been? I thought something happened to you, you weren’t at your place, I thought maybe the police…”

“Woah, woah, chill, B!” Faith knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

“Chill?  _ Chill? _ Faith, I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt here, I know you’ve had a rough time of it, and I know you’ve got your whole loosey-goosey, do-what-I-want-now and ask-questions-later approach to things, but I’m starting to think maybe you’re actually just fucking stupid.”

Faith blinked. 

“That was...way harsh, B,” she said. “I...okay, look, I see what you’re saying. I’m sorry I’m late, I’m sorry I’ve been flaky.” Faith thanked god for the cocaine in her system, freeing words that had been trapped since that night, completely tongue-tied every time she talked to Buffy.

“I want to do things right. I’m working on it, I really am. I just want...I just hope you can let me do that. Let me show you.”

_ And please, please, please don’t take away the few good things I’ve ever had in my life. Please, God, please don’t tell. _

But even with the cocaine, she couldn’t quite bring herself to say that.

Nevertheless, Buffy seemed mostly appeased. At least, her expression had softened, now portraying something more like pity than anger. Faith couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

“Well let’s not waste any more time,” she said, grabbing Buffy by the hand. The blonde stiffened for a moment, then let Faith lead her into the cemetery. 

By the time they hid the third cemetery, Faith was coming down hard. Her head pounded, her sinuses feeling like they were about to explode. 

“Faith? Earth to Faith!” She blinked as Buffy waved a hand in front of her face.

“Wh- what?”

“I feel  _ very  _ strongly that wherever you are, it is not this cemetery. Where the vampires are. Which is, you know, dangerous?”

“Sorry, B, I was just thinkin’.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Y’know, I might be coming down with something or something.” She hated lying to Buffy, but she certainly couldn’t just say ‘oh, sorry B, I’m just spaced because I’ve been up for 24 hours doing cocaine with my drug dealer.’ Not if she wanted Buffy to keep her secret, to let her keep this small life she’d started to build. She knew it wasn’t much - it was very little by most people’s standards - but nevertheless, slaying alongside Buffy, having friends...or at least, people to hang out with. Losing all of that, not to mention being trapped, the only choice to either live on the run or go to prison...the thought made her stomach churn and brought a panicked rushing sound to her ears. Or maybe that was an effect of the total lack of food she’d eaten since yesterday. Fucking cocaine.

“Alright, well I don’t want you getting me or yourself killed out here,” Buffy replied. “Why don’t you head home and I’ll do a final sweep.”

“No, it’s nothin’, really, I’m totally fine B. Five-by-five.” 

Buffy stopped, looking at Faith. She turned to meet the other Slayer’s large green eyes, and forced her expression not to show guilt or shame.

“Faith,” Buffy said quietly. She reached out and took Faith’s hands in her own. “I...I know things aren’t...things are really bad right now. In every way. What happened is...it’s one of the worst things that could possibly happen. I know you’re not “five-by-five,” and I wish you would stop trying to pretend. At least to me. You need - ”

“Geez, B, you’re gettin’ a little gooey on me,” Faith interrupted. She couldn’t take Buffy’s earnest eyes, her heartfelt speech, her telling her what she _needed_ , all of it. Not with her brain chemicals all out of whack, lack of food and sleep catching up to her...much more of that and she’d be crying. And whatever else happened, she was  _ not  _ going to cry in front of Buffy.

For her part, Buffy accepted the interruption. She looked a little disappointed, but let go of Faith’s hands and started walking again.

“Regardless, Faith, I really got it from here. Head home, I’ll do a sweep and then do the same.”

#

Despite her exhaustion, Faith couldn’t sleep. She spritzed Afrin into each nostril to relieve the congestion, and took a Xanax to ease the heart pounding. She lay on her bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. 

_ No need to pretend. At least to me.  _

_ At least to me. _

Buffy’s words echoed in her thoughts, bouncing around the corners of her brain. 

_ But you do have to pretend. If you don’t, it’s all gone. This motel room. Slaying. Davey. Nights at the Bronze. Her. _

Soon, thoughts would no longer form in words in her head. Instead, they flashed chaotically as images, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. Davey’s hand brushing hers in the alley. A vamp dusting around her stake. Her stake in his chest, Buffy’s  _ NO, _ blood.  Buffy taking her hands in the cemetery. A dog barking at her mother in an alley in Boston.

Faith's chest ached, and until the moment she drifted into unconsciousness, she doubted if she’d ever be able to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my best to balance the setup vs. plot, feelings vs. fun, etc., but I'm not working from a super concrete outline here so bear with me! This is going somewhere, eventually.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a conflict with Davey, an amped-up Faith hits the Bronze and ends up accompanying a girl to buy drugs from vamps.

Faith’s hand had barely left the door from the first knock when Davey answered. 

“Expecting me?” She grinned. “Or expecting someone else? Should I be jealous?”

Davey smiled, a little less enthusiastically than she. “You won’t convince me you’re the jealous type,” he said.

“That’s pretty fair. You busy?”

Davey ushered her in, locking the door behind them.

“What brings you by?” he asked. 

She turned to him, pressing her body close to his, gently grabbing his lapels and smoothing them. 

“Do you have to ask?” She moved even closer, until she could feel the warmth of his body and smell the cigarette smoke in his hair, clothes, and breath.

Davey stepped back. “I’m starting to think you’re just using me,” he teased. But something about his tone threw Faith off. He certainly wasn’t responding as enthusiastically as she’d anticipated.

“What’s up with you?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “Just a long night,” he said. 

“Ah, I see. Well, you know, they make this thing that really helps when you’re tired…”

“Jesus, Faith, do you ever sleep? Or like, take a beat to recover?”

“I’ve got good stamina,” she said, not inaccurately. She closed the distance between them again. “C’mon, I bet I know a couple of different things that’ll perk you  _ right  _ up. Up being the operative word.” She reached down to grab him, giving him a firm but not-too-hard squeeze. 

“I...mmmm.” For a moment, it seemed as though he had considered protesting. But as her hand worked its way under his pants, gently massaging, he trailed off. She pushed him towards the bed, and finished the job of unzipping his pants.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can do most of the work this time.”

And with that, she got to work with her mouth and hands, first gently, then more vigorously as he responded, his erection growing quickly under her ministrations.

“Now you relax and  _ take a beat  _ to recover,” she said, before taking him into her mouth.

He moaned in pleasure, and she smiled in spite of herself.  _ Men. So easy. _

The sex was not quite so intense as the last time, and Faith chose not to push it. Instead, she rode him gently, not slamming herself up and down, but sliding her hips forwards and backwards, tantalizingly slow, while reaching back to cup his balls in her hand. Eventually, his impatience - and her patience - won out over whatever he was coming down off of. He grabbed her hips, and began to meet her thrust for thrust, increasing in speed until she felt him spasm inside of her. 

When they finished, Faith pulled on her underwear and top, and lay down on the bed next to him.

“So what are your plans for the day?” she asked, stroking his chest. 

He shrugged again. “I definitely need to take it easy,” he said. She frowned.

“Oh, c’mon Davey. Maybe I don’t know you as well as I think, but I didn’t take you for a...oh I dunno, a bummer?” 

Davey looked mildly offended. “I didn’t ask you to be here,” he said a little coldly. She pulled back.

“Oh, seriously? You’re gonna pretend you didn’t want that now? Or was I being too gentle?” As she said this, she reached down to grab him again, this time a little more firmly. “Is that it? You only want the sweaty, passionate, teasing, thrusting,  _ vigorous _ fuck? You should’ve said so.”

“Ow!” he grunted as she squeezed harder. She pulled herself back on top of him, kissing him aggressively and pulling his lip between her teeth. 

“Faith - ”

“Is this what you need?” she whispered in his ear, cutting him off.

“Faith, stop!” he yelled, pushing her off of him.

“Fine!” she yelled, jumping up. She turned away, pulling her top on as an excuse to hide the flush in her face. “It’s not like I’m hard up for company, I just thought we’d been having fun.”

“Faith,” Davey said tiredly. “We  _ have  _ been having fun. And now, honestly, I’m tired. Can we just...do this another time?” 

The flash of anger hadn’t quite subsided, but Faith knew she’d been a bit much. “Yeah, fine,” she mumbled, zipping her boots and turning out the door. “See ya another time then.” She heard him call her name as she left, but it sounded just as tired and half-hearted as everything else about him. She didn’t turn around.

#

Angry, hurt, and still a little buzzed, Faith found herself headed not home, but to the Bronze. She thought perhaps she could blow off a little steam on the dance floor, and forget about Davey entirely. Fuck him, anyway. He didn’t know a good thing when it was literally sucking his dick. 

Fueled more by petty anger than her usual enjoyment of a little dirty dancing, Faith resembled a whirling dervish, moving from dance partner to dance partner so fast they couldn’t even get a good look at her. But that didn’t stop them from getting their hands all over her. Men - so predictable. 

Tossing her hair, Faith gave a smile to the guy she’d been dancing with. Nerdy looking, too tall with ill-fitting glasses, he looked like a kid on Christmas, eyes wide with naive excitement. For a second, Faith considered showing him a good time - god know he wouldn’t get many chances like that - but then decided, no, she wasn’t in the mood for teaching. Plus, she was feeling pretty over the whole puppy-dog look.

Instead, she slipped off the dance floor to flirt her way into a shot or two at the bar. 

“Hey,” she said to the bartender, leaning forward. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look down at her breasts.  _ Damn _ . Tucking a hair behind her ear, she was about to turn her charm to 100, but a voice interrupted her.

“Say, aren’t you the reason Davey’s all holed up and boring these days? I feel like the only times I’ve seen him this week were hanging around with you. He here?” 

The questioner was a petite girl, red lipstick slightly smudged and auburn hair pulled into two braids. She wore ripped stockings with an appalling short skirt, a tank top, and to Faith’s sudden embarrassment, the exact same pair of combat boots as her. 

The girl noticed Faith’s gaze and looked down at her shoes. Then her eyes moved to Faith’s, and she laughed, a sudden, full laugh that surprised Faith coming from a girl so small.

“I’ve been hanging out with Davey,” Faith confirmed. “But he ain’t my boyfriend. And trust me, he doesn’t need any help being lame and boring.” She knew she sounded bitter and petty, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

The girl looked at her appraisingly. “Hm, he’s probably just in one of his sober swings,” she said, a little apologetically. “He...he really likes to party, but it always takes a toll on him. He’ll come around a bunch for a while, hang with us, get deep into it and then just fall of the face of the earth. Rinse and repeat. I’d just give him some time.”

For a moment, Faith felt bad for her anger towards Davey. But she soon forgot about Davey entirely.

“I’m Alice, by the way. Say...are you looking to have a little fun tonight?” Faith raised her eyebrows. “It’s just...well, let’s talk outside,” she finished, looking around as though expecting to find spies.

Once outside, the girl lit up a cigarette and offered one to Faith. She accepted, and lit them both.

“Ok, so here’s the thing,” the girl said, bubbling with what seemed like nervous excitement. “I got this guy, this supplier of some  _ really  _ fine shit. Like, next-level shit. But he’s kinda...well, frankly, he scares the shit out of me. I refuse to go alone, but Davey’s been off, and some of our other crew got a little freaked last time, I don’t think it was that big a deal but I guess a couple of the guys were wearing masks or something? Probably just to discourage any funny business. Anyway, they won’t go back. I’m not asking you to do anything, I’ll do the talking, I just feel like if there’s someone else there it’ll probably be safer?”

_ Masks?  _ “Uh...what kind of masks?” she asked. Alice stared at her.

“I don’t know, like, creepy Halloween masks,” she said. “Fangs and shit.” Something inside Faith jumped. A drug-dealing vamp cartel would get her mind off things  _ way  _ better than dancing with a bunch of boring, human dudes.

She grinned. “I’m entirely in,” she said.

#

“It’s right through here,” Alice said, pulling back a rotting board at the base of an equally rotting building. Faith heard voices inside, rough and distinctive. Her skin hummed with the proximity of vampires.

“You go ahead,” she told Alice. “I’ll hang back, that way if there’s any trouble, they won’t be expecting me.” She didn’t mention her other reason for hanging back - that if the vamps saw a Slayer, they’d fight or flee immediately. And while she was looking for a fight, she wanted it on her terms.

Alice looked hesitant, but agreed. She slipped through the broken window, and Faith heard her greet the group of vamps in a high, slightly shaky voice. Instead of remaining there, she slipped around the side of the building, looking for a better entrance. A large door sat next to the wall around the next corner. Boarded up of course, but that was no problem for a Slayer.

She pulled a stake from her jacket.

_ Blood. NO. Murderer.  _

_ SHUT UP. _

She shook her head fiercely. She couldn’t be losing her fucking mind every time she held a stake in her hand, god dammnit. 

But in another moment, chaos offered blessed relief from any further thoughts. Spinning around, she got her arm up just in time to block a blow from a huge vamp in faux leather pants. 

“Nice pants,” she said, circling, protecting herself while looking for an opening to take him out.

“Nice neck,” the vamp retorted. Faith lunged, swinging wildly at his face. Her first punch landed squarely, her second glanced, but the roundhouse kick she followed it up with sent him sprawling. He jumped up, growling, no longer smiling, and rushed her. Using his momentum against him, Faith slipped out of the way, sending a kick to aid him head-first into the door. It burst open, rotting wood splintering easily under the dual forced of vamp and Slayer.

“What the - ” the vamp closest to the door said, but he didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence. Whirling, Faith jabbed him in the heart, using the same motion to send another kick at the first vamp. She quickly took stock of the situation: one dusted, four remaining, including the one who had followed her in. But he must have been the lone guard, as anyone in the vicinity would have come running from that ruckus.

Dazed, still on the ground, the first vamp offered little resistance as Faith jumped on top of him, knocking him back and staking him in the same motion. She rose, turning to face the remaining three.

“Slayer,” one of them - presumably the leader, from the way the other two flanked him - hissed. 

“Vampire!” she responded brightly. “We gonna sit around naming things all day, or can we just skip to the violence? I get antsy, see.”

The leader prowled forward, moving with grace and power, like a cat. Faith kept her eye on him - he didn’t seem quite as thick-skulled as most vamps. While Faith kept her focus on the leader, she still easily saw one of his henchmen circling around, obviously thinking he could get behind her and surprise her while her focus was elsewhere. She decided that would work nicely.

“So, regular killing-people-evil wasn’t doing it anymore? Had to add in corrupting-the-youth evil?”

“Not your problem, Slayer,” the vamp hissed. “Nothing’s your problem anymore, dead girl.”

“Ah, now you see, that’s where you’re wrong,” she answered, carefully avoiding looking at the vamp now nearly out of her peripheral vision. “I’ve got problems out my  _ ass _ . Some of ‘em you can relate to, I bet! Murder, mayhem, generally being a bad person. Issues with stakes. But others, not so much. Slaying’s a stressful gig, y’know? Well, I guess you don’t know. My point is - oh, I  _ really  _ wouldn’t.” 

She couldn’t see him, but Faith could feel the air behind her move as the vamp rushed her. Whirling, she grabbed his arm and wrenched it up behind his back, hearing a satisfying  _ crack _ . As she went to stake him, she saw a baggie sticking out of his jacket pocket. 

“I’ll take  _ that _ ,” she said, snagging the baggie with her left hand just as she brought the right to his heart. 

“Hey!” he said dumbly before dusting.

As she was busy taking and staking, the leader had tried to capitalize on her distraction. She was almost disappointed in how easy it was to take him out. He rushed her, seeing nothing but a turned back, and gasped in pain and surprise a moment later as she turned around, stake out.

“Bastard practically staked himself,” she said, disgusted. She looked up, ready to fight the last vamp, but instead saw him fleeing out the window. But she got one step to following him when the rush of the fight faded enough for her to remember she hadn’t come alone.

“Oh, fuck, Alice - are you ok?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Had to take a break from this project for a bit, but I'm hoping to be cranking out more much more quickly now. Chapter 7 (the next one) should be really getting things moving in the direction I originally had planned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith tries a new drug

Alice was both bleeding and shaking. 

“Hey, woah, it’s fine. You’re fine,” Faith said, steadying the smaller girl. 

_ You fucking moron, you just left a 100 pound human girl to her own devices in the middle of a goddamn vamp fight?  _

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Faith said a few more times, assuring herself as much as Alice. “See? They’re gone, poof, no more. You’re fine.”

“See? See? How could I not see? What the  _ fuck  _ was that?” Her voice held a note of panic, and her knees and palms were scraped.

“I know, it’s always a shock. The world ain’t what ya thought it was, but that’s always the way of it isn’t it? You’ll be fine. Let’s get you a drink.” Her voice held a note of pleading, needing the girl to be both physically and mentally fine. 

Faith took her back to her motel, and handed her a near-empty bottle of Evan Williams. She downed it in two gulps, grimacing and gagging slightly. Then she stood up, pacing.

“I’m...that was...I mean...wow I am amped right now. That was…”

“I know.” Faith opened another bottle, leaning back on the bed.

“I gotta...that was just - say, I was so frazzled I didn’t even think. Did you see what happened to the Hedoné?” 

With a grin, Faith pulled a baggie of white powder from her bag. It sparkled with silver flecks. The girls’ eyes went wide.

“That’s...that’s...that’s like,  _ hundreds  _ of dollars worth,” she said. Faith raised on eyebrow. 

“This not a hell of a lot of powder for hundreds of dollars.”

“Trust me, it’s  _ powerful  _ shit. A dose you can barely see will have you out there all night. Do you...you wanna try it? I know I could use a pick-me-up after...well, after whatever that was.”

Faith held the bag out to her. “Sure, show me a good dose.”

The girl fished a pocket knife out of her bag, taking the smallest dot of powder onto the tip. 

“You can snort it and it hits quicker, but honestly not that much harder. But it lasts longer if you just…” she finished the sentence by licking the tip of the knife, then rolling her tongue around her gums inside her mouth. She tried the knife on her skirt, and dipped it again.

“Open up,” she said. Faith leaned forward, mouth open, and brushed the knife with the tip of her tongue, pulling the powder in. She did the same as Alice, running it over her gums. It tasted sweet, not bitter or plasticky like most drugs. In fact, it practically tasted like sugar.

“You sure this isn’t just, like, sugar with sparkles?” She asked, suddenly suspicious. But Alice didn’t answer. She was swaying on the spot, as though dancing, but there was no music. Or was there? She didn’t have any way to play music...could it be coming from a different room? But no, it was coming from everywhere.

Faith stood, eyes wide, and looked around the room. The musical sound was indeterminate, swirling in the air around her but with no discernable, specific tune. There was no melody, no obvious changing of notes or chords, but every moment of it seemed perfectly composed, perfectly...well, musical.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Alice said dreamily. Faith looked at her. Her auburn hair, which had before looked a bit haphazard, coming out of its braids, absolutely glowed. The red lipstick, which had looked smudged and sloppy, gleamed like a polished apple. Her eyes sparkled, the air sparkled, everything sparkled.

“It’s...holy shit,” Faith answered.

“It’s the holiest of shit,” Alice agreed.

For the first hour, they danced around Faith’s room to the music in the air. It had started gently, pleasantly, beautifully, but had since grown into swirling, passionate, intense sounds. They whirled around, occasionally grabbing each others’ hands and spinning. Once, Faith picked Alice up by the waist, lifted her up over her head, and spun her in circles as fast as she could.”

“This...is…...INCREDIBLE!” the smaller girl yelled, voice lost in the rapid spinning. 

After a while - seconds? Minutes? More? - Faith set her down. Both girls collapsed, laughing, onto the bed.

“I’ve never felt this good in my life,” Alice said, turning to face Faith. Her eyes still sparkled, even brighter than everything else around them.

“I bet I can make it even better,” Faith said, pushing herself up onto one elbow.

Alice didn’t answer, but she leaned forward to meet Faith’s kiss halfway.

The sensation was incredible. More incredible than any kiss she had ever felt. Her lips were so soft, so full, so  _ sensational _ . 

As overcome with lust as Faith was, Alice pulled the Slayer over and on top of her, latching both hands around her neck and kissing her passionately.

“ _ Touch me, _ ” she breathed.

Feeling her body hum in response, Faith did so immediately. The drug - Hedoné - was continuing to build, sensations that had been gentle, floating, and pleasant, now building to passionate, intense, even chaotic. But entirely euphoric. 

Alice shivered as Faith moved down between her legs. With one hand, she reached up and massaged her breast, grabbing roughly and making her moan with just the contact. Without yet touching her in her warm core, Faith traced her fingers up and down the sides of her inner thighs, making her sigh and quiver. She could see her arousal, glistening down her thighs. Then, without warning, she slipped two fingers inside, eliciting a breathy gasp. Working slowly, she curled her fingers back towards herself, stroking gently, searching...there. Finding the spot that made Alice whimper, Faith increased both pressure and speed - not too much, but bit by bit, reveling in the power of making Alice arch her back, curl her toes. Her eyes flew open, head tilted back, as her orgasm crested. Faith could feel her muscles spasming, quivering, but did not stop until Alice let out a final cry of ecstasy, let go of the covers she had been gripping, and collapsed back onto the bed.

Faith put her fingers in her mouth to clean them, then moved back up to lay down next to Alice.

“That...was...incredible,” Alice said, still breathing heavily. She rolled her head to look at Faith, face flushed and eyes bright. Faith pushed the girl’s auburn hair - now entirely out of its messy braids - back behind her ear.

“You’d look good as a blonde,” she said offhandedly. Alice raised her eyebrows.

“I’ve been blonde before,” she replied. “Been a lot of colors, actually - including your greens, blues, pinks and purples.” 

Faith laughed. “I could see that working for you.” 

“Do you want me to...return the favor?” Alice asked, a little awkwardly. Faith had initially planned to have her do just that, but she found herself instead craving a little cool air, feeling confined in the motel room.

“It’s been a pleasure to be your pleasure,” she said instead. “I could actually really dig a nice walk, get out of here, maybe go somewhere,” she continued, hopping up. 

Alice grinned. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t warn you about that. This stuff is...next level. Starts out like molly or something like that, all floaty and nice, but it  _ builds _ . We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“There’s  _ better _ ?” Faith asked, genuinely incredulous.

“I mean, some people find it too intense, but...you don’t seem like that type,” Alice told her.

“Anyway, yes, let’s go do something. How late is it? Is the Bronze still open?”

\--

By the time they got to the Bronze, Faith knew what Alice had meant. She didn’t feel  _ nice  _ anymore. She felt absolutely euphoric, powerful. It was like the rush of a fight plus the pleasure of an orgasm with a strong side of pure stimulation. But  _ more _ . 

They hit the dance floor immediately, feeling altogether too up to sit around on the sidelines, drinking or chatting. They danced wildly, sometimes with each other, sometimes with others. But Faith kept an unusual amount of distance from her dance partners this night, reveling in the power of pulling them in, moving just inches away from them, and slipping away and on to a new partner as their hands reached for her.

“Fucking tease,” she heard one guy say to his friend after she did just this. She’d done the same to his friend not 10 minutes before.

“Don’t worry,” she heard his friend say, though she kept dancing, letting her enhanced Slayer hearing catch the rest. “$50 says a slut like that’ll be taking both our cocks by the end of the night.”

A delicious fury surged in Faith. She always found fury a little delicious, of course, but this time...with the help of Hedoné, she felt like a goddess, whirling to cast her wrath on the pathetic men beneath her.

“I’m sorry, boys,” she said in her sickliest tone. “You needed more  _ contact? _ ”

With the last word, she shoved her body against the nearest of the guys, harshly grabbing him by the crotch and twisting. He let out an animal squeal of pain as his knees buckled.

“You fuckin’  _ bitch _ ,” his friend said, stepping towards them. The Hedoné throbbed in Faith’s head and veins, she felt  _ prime  _ for a good ole brawl, ready to take on - 

“There a problem here?” a voice cut in. Dropping her grip, Faith turned to look at the speaker.

Buffy. 

Buffy always had a certain glow, or shine, or sparkle. Not in a “oh she’s so beautiful” way - though of course, Buffy was not hard to look at - but in a literal, supernatural, reflects-light-differently way. It was how Faith knew who she was the moment she saw her - she could literally see her power, her core, her vibrance. She wondered if she looked like that to Buffy.  _ Probably not - you were never even supposed to exist.  _

But now, with even the most mundane humans shining like fucking glowsticks, Buffy was absolutely blinding. Her hair glimmered, her skin glistened as though covered in tiny diamonds, and her eyes, her  _ eyes _ , Faith couldn’t stop staring - 

From the look on her sparkling face, Buffy had noticed. She gave Faith a searching, somewhat confused look, but turned back to the two guys as one spoke.

“Yeah, well as I said, this fuckin’  _ bitch -  _ ” the guy began again. His friend was still half on the ground, gasping.

“Oh, no, I’m not asking you,” Buffy interrupted. “You don’t speak, because you’re already gone.” The guys looked at each other, clearly considering insisting on a fight, but to Faith’s disappointment they slipped through the crowd and disappeared instead.

Buffy turned to Faith, eyes still searching. 

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked.

“Just blowing off steam,” Faith said defensively, trying to compose her face, to not ogle or gape or let on that she was high as a motherfucking kite on supernatural ecstasy she stole from a vamp.

“Faith, what the hell was that? After everything that happened, you can’t go around assaulting people.”

“Buzzkill,” Faith said. But it didn’t come out in her usual sullen, defensive tone. Goddamn drugs made her sound like Tinkerbell, all high and happy.

“Buzzkill?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “We  _ don’t. Hurt. Humans. _ Even if they deserve it. I guess you really have forgotten everything about being a decent person.”

In that moment, Faith realized that she had spent the last 6 hours? more? not once thinking about Allen Finch, or the blood, or Buffy’s horrified  _ NO. _ Now those memories came back, forced to the surface. 

But she saw them through a new filter now, from a new perspective. For the first time, she thought of the squelching sound and how his chest just seemed to cave under her hand without wanting to slam her head into a wall until it went away again. 

Instead, looking at Buffy, at the power within her that lit up the room, she realized that her power was more than a talent that would enable her to get what she wanted. Looking at Buffy,  _ seeing  _ the Slayer power with her own eyes, she no longer thought that it gave her some leg up on normal humans. No, it put her - her and Buffy - in a different category altogether. Human laws, human morals...they didn’t apply. Not to them. They existed on a different plane, the realm of greatness, of the supernatural and Godlike. Godesslike.

“Faith?” Buffy asked. She had been saying something.  _ Shit _ . Faith’s head felt miles away, miles above the dancefloor of the Bronze. Her skin hummed. She reached out and put a hand on Buffy’s arm, eyes wide. It looked like diamond, but felt soft as the finest silk. 

Buffy pulled back.

“Faith, are you okay?” 

Faith tried to compose her face, to act normal...but what was normal? Sullen, angry, self-hating, rude? Jesus Christ, she had been pathetic. 

“I’m fine, B. I’m fine, I see it now, I see what I’ve been doing wrong, I see how it was supposed to be - ”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to put a hand on Faith’s arm. At the contact, a delicious shudder ran down Faith’s spine. She hoped Buffy hadn’t noticed.

“I know things have been really tough for you, and I know I sound like a broken record,” Buffy said. “But I also hope you know I  _ care _ , I want what’s best for you, for everyone, and I know you care too. I hope it’s true, I hope you’ve really seen how the way you act, how you don’t think, is dangerous. You can grow, and - ”

“Did you know you glow?” Faith interrupted. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t keep looking at Buffy, nearly blinded by the light reflecting off every part of her, practically shooting out of her eyes, and keep talking as though anything else in the world mattered.

“What?”

“Like, you have a...slight glow. You sparkle a bit more than humans, you’re more - ”

“I  _ am  _ human,” Buffy cut in.

“No, I know, that’s not...that’s not what I mean, I just mean, your power. It’s...visible. I don’t know that I’ve ever mentioned that before.”

For a moment, Buffy seemed at a loss for words. Because she knew what Faith meant, because she saw it too? Or because she thought Faith had lost her mind?

“You should get some rest,” Buffy said, finally finding some words. “I did a sweep on my way over, don’t see any vamps here either, so I’m gonna do the same.”

For a moment, Faith thought wildly of telling Buffy to stay, of taking this time, this new-found perspective, to explain to Buffy that everything was ok, to convince her that they could move forward and on and fight evil as the forces of good together.

But instead, she heard herself say that she’d be heading home soon, and let Buffy walk away.

“Who was that?” a voice piped up over her shoulder. Faith turned to find Alice, face flushed with dancing, still sparkling, but...more dully. Was the drug wearing off, or did she just look dull after looking at Buffy so long?

“Work friend,” Faith said.

Alice looked thoughtful. 

“You work?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith makes a deal with a vamp and gets caught

“Yeah - well, no - I mean, yeah...hey, Alice, is that guy from the warehouse?” Faith squinted across the room at the figure by the door. Alice followed her finger with her eyes.

“Uh, it could be...oh, shit, yeah. Yeah that’s the one that got away. Shit, that’s the vampire, the literal fucking  _ vampire  _ in the motherfucking  _ Bronze _ , shit, I mean wow - ”

“Take it easy,” Faith said soothingly, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “How about you get a drink, stay here, keep dancing, whatever you want. I’m just gonna go...take care of that.”

Alice looked at her, wide-eyed. “Who  _ are  _ you?” she breathed, seemingly more to herself than to Faith. So, Faith chose to pretend not to hear that loaded a question. Instead, she gave the girl a wink and a finger gun, said “catch ya in a few,” and slipped through the crowd.

She followed the vamp discreetly for a while, not wanting to make a scene right outside the crowded Bronze. Normally she wouldn’t care, of course - people had a remarkable ability to ignore what they didn’t want to see - but in this case, high as a kite, or near enough, and after a vamp she’d recently stolen drugs from, she decided it best to take the party elsewhere.

As luck would have it, the vamp seemed to have similar ideas of privacy. He headed down towards the docks, turning off just by the water down a particularly dank looking alley. Perfect.

“Hey, mister!” she called out, stepping into the alley behind him. He stopped a few yards in front of her and whirled. “Gee, think a fella like you could help a girl out? I’m all lost, and helpless, you see.” She smiled sweetly.

“Oh, you have  _ no  _ ide - wait, Slayer?” His delighted sneer turned quickly to a squinting frown, then a blank mask of fear as he recognized her from the warehouse. “Shit, hey, uh, what’s up Slayer? What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Faith took a step forward, and he scurried back. She laughed. 

“Bit of a coward, aren’t you?” she taunted. He laughed nervously.

“Hey, man...I mean, woman, I mean..Slayer...I’m just tryna make an honest living, I got no beef with you - ”

“I think maybe you’re a little confused,” Faith cut in. “Which must be easy when you’re that dumb. I’m the  _ Slayer.  _ Well, one of 'em.  Of, you know,  _ Vampires _ ? I really don’t care if you have a beef with me. I have a beef with you. Because I’m the Slayer. Fighter of evil? Destroyer of demons? Not really up to the demons, in the end. And you slipped off before I could do my job!”

As she spoke, she continued closing the gap, until his back was pressed to a dumpster. His eyes flashed with panic as she closed the gap. 

“Wait!” he yelled frantically. 

_ This pathetic coward won’t even give me a fight? Motherfucker. _

“Wait,” he said again. “You liked that stuff, right? The stuff you got from my buddies, may they rest in peace?”

“Can you say that about vamps?”

“What?”

“May they rest in peace? I thought the Hell dimensions were pretty much a done deal of like, torture and despair forever.” 

The vamp shrugged. “Uh...yeah, figure of speech I guess.” 

They stood silently for a moment, before the vamp remembered his desperate plea for mercy.

“No, yeah, that stuff! You liked that stuff. I can tell, you got that look. Say, you’re probably feelin’ it right now aren’t you?” 

Faith raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t suck,” she said. “But I’m afraid I have plenty, and I’m really more in the mood for killing than bribes - ”

“But you can’t get more!” he interrupted desperately. “You don’t know the suppliers, you killed the others, I’m the only connection you have. And I can get it cheap - free! Free, I can get it free, for you, whenever you want.”

Faith paused. With the very drug in question still pulsing through her veins - though more weakly by the moment - she  _ really  _ wanted to kill this vamp. She was regretting not taking that orgasm offer from Alice. A release of some kind would have to happen soon. But then again, the vamp was right - there was no guarantee she’d find another supplier, especially one willing to cooperate. Plus, dusting a vamp while he cowered and begged, rather than threatened and sneered and quipped, sounded pretty damn lame.

“Deal,” she said suddenly. “But if I see you around the Bronze, or even  _ near _ any warm-blooded young hotties, you’re dust. Got it?”

“Got it, yes’m, no problem. Pig’s blood for me from here on out, scout’s honor.” Faith almost laughed at that, but kept her fierce and frightening visage up.

“Fine. I’ll be in touch - don’t find me, I’ll find you.”

The vamp nodded vigorously and ran past her, back towards the docks. Faith turned to leave the same way, when a movement at the other end of the alley caught her eye. 

A figure stepped out from the shadow of a decrepit building. A small, blonde, sparkling figure. 

_ Buffy. Fuck. Fuck. FuckFuckFuckFUCK shit.  _ Faith blinked stupidly. How had she not seen her, sensed her, smelled her? She always knew when Buffy was around. A Slayer thing, she supposed. She stared at the figure, now just yards away from her. She still sparkled, but more like she always did, not the wild, blinding light she had seen at the Bronze. How long had it been since they’d dropped the Hedoné? 12 hours? More? The sun was nearly up. Her head spun, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t feel straight.  _ How much did she see? How much did she hear? You goddamn fucking idiot. She’ll never forgive you now, never move on, you  _ fucking  _ moron. _

“B, hey, what are you...what are you doing here?” Faith began desperately, but Buffy held up a hand. Faith saw that it was shaking.

“I - ” Buffy paused, swallowed. Her eyes were wide and hurt and horrified and Faith wanted to fall on her knees and beg her to give her a chance to explain...but explain what? It was exactly what it looked like. 

But she didn’t have the chance, anyway. Buffy’s backhand came flying out of nowhere, catching Faith squarely on the jaw. It wasn’t exactly the hardest the Slayer could hit, but she hadn’t pulled it, either. Faith stood stock-still, shocked. But Buffy wasn’t done - she grabbed Faith by the shoulders, slamming her roughly into the wall of the nearest building. For a brief moment, with Buffy pinning her to the wall, Faith wondered if the other Slayer was going to kill her. But then Buffy let go, and faster than Faith could react, reached into both of her jacket pockets at the same time. When she pulled them out, she held a small baggie of white powder in the left. 

Buffy stepped back, letting Faith go completely. “I'd ask for an explanation,” she finally choked out around her anger. “But I don't actually think I need one. Do you know why I’m even here,  _ F _ ? Do you know why I followed you?” 

Faith opened her mouth to speak, but Buffy plowed on. 

“No, it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s not because I thought you were up to something. It’s because I thought you might need  _ help _ . Because I saw you go after a vampire and thought maybe someone should have your back. I followed you because I thought  _ so  _ much better of you that I never once, despite everything, believed you were anything but good. But this, Faith? A fucking...drug deal? With a vampire? I mean, Jesus Christ, got any other surprises for me? Have you secretly joined a gang, or, I don’t know, stolen a car recently? Credit card fraud? No, I guess that's too high brow. Drug deals and stabbings for you, I'm sure. I thought you were putting on a mask, pretending you don’t care about what happened…”

_ Blood. Wood. NO.  _

“...But maybe I was being too charitable. I guess you really don’t care about anything at all, except getting your kicks. I mean, seriously Faith? First murder, now drugs? I guess it was kind of a reverse gateway crime situation?”

It didn’t seem like a good time to point out that she’d done drugs long before she’d killed anyone, so Faith said nothing. She could barely form a thought, her brain churning, trying to come up with something to say. But Buffy still hadn’t finished.

“Fuck, Faith, are you high right now? How can I expect you to have my back out there when for all I know you could be, like, hallucinating vampires in tutus?”

Faith also didn’t think it a great time to note that she wasn’t doing psychedelics, or that psychedelics didn’t actually make you hallucinate entire scenes like that. 

“Buffy, just let me - ”

“No, Faith, I won’t ‘let you.’ I’m done ‘letting you.’ ‘Letting you’ off the hook, ‘letting you’ drag me into trouble and danger, ‘letting you’ get away with whatever you want to do even when it endangers innocent people. I thought you were a bit impulsive, a hothead, but I didn’t think you were this selfish. I honestly didn’t. And now you’ve not only endangered me and god knows how many innocent people by letting that vampire go - you’ve also made a fool of me. Go home and...sober up, or whatever. I have a vampire to find. To clean up your mess, as usual.”

With that, Buffy stormed out of the alleyway, in the same direction the vamp had gone.

#

When Buffy had passed out of sight, Faith sank to the ground in the alley. She held her head in her hands as though hoping to physically keep her thoughts from spiraling out into chaos. She failed.

_ I thought you were impulsive, a hothead, a good person, selfish. Drugs, Faith? You don’t care about anything at all except getting your kicks. I guess you really have forgotten the first thing about being a decent person. Anything but good. _

For a while, Faith sat, rocking, fingernails digging into the skin around her temples and scalp trying to pull herself back, to focus enough to deal with this situation. 

_ You’re a goddamn Slayer, this ain’t your first rough comedown. Pathetic. Get the fuck up. _

Shaking herself, berating herself into action, she finally staggered upright. A woozy feeling washed over her - 12 hours on a strong stimulant will do that - then steadied.

_ So what now, Faith? What are you gonna do now - all outta drugs, all outta second chances? Fucking pathetic.  _

But as she walked slowly back towards the center of town, her anger shifted. Yes, she had been irresponsible. But she  _ wasn’t  _ on duty tonight. She had every right to do with her free time what she wanted. Buffy didn’t have half a clue what the difference between weed and meth was, of course she was going to be self-righteous and accusatory about it. But had she really done anything so terribly wrong?

_ You let a vamp go so he could get you drugs, you unbelievable fuck-up.  _ But then again, she’d made a deal with him - he had promised, after all, not to eat any humans. For all that was worth.

A muffled scream of frustration ripped its way out of Faith’s throat. She needed to  _ think _ , but she had never felt less clear. 

She was a goddamn Slayer. Nothing was out of her reach. The only problem was...what did she want? She had power, but what good was power without something to use it for? What did she _want_?

_ To go back. _

_ Yeah, well, you can’t go back, what with the stabbing and the way death doesn’t just go away. _

Well, maybe she couldn’t go back and unkill Finch. But that didn’t mean she had to lose everything. Slaying, Sunnydale, Davey and Alice...her new Hedoné hook-up didn’t hurt. She had a life here, now. But then there was Buffy. Had she lost Buffy already? 

_ You lost her the moment you pushed your stake in a human heart. She’ll never look at you the same. She doesn’t have your back anymore. She’s probably heading straight to Giles right now, to make sure she never has to see you again. _

_ You’ve already lost her. _

_ I’ve already lost her. _

Faith paused at an intersection, then turned right. Towards Sunnydale High, where Giles would be working late as usual. Towards her one chance to keep just  _ some  _ of the little she had, the most she’d ever had. She’d already lost Buffy - she’d do what she had to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate and unstable, Faith makes a life-altering decision. In the aftermath, she reaches a new low.

“Giles,” Faith said, knocking twice on the door frame. He jumped, splashing a bit of his tea onto a thick stack of yellowed papers.

“Oh for the love of…” he hurriedly moved the papers and dabbed at the damp stains. “I mean really, 11th Century...yes, sorry, what is it you need Faith? You’re up rather early on a week-end.” Faith didn’t bother to tell him she had yet to go to bed, though the slight frown that appeared on Giles’ face when he looked at her said he likely already guessed. Or maybe she just had that effect on people. Bringer of frowns and disappointment.

“Giles, it’s - I have to tell you something,” she began. It was hard enough to form coherent thoughts, but this...what was she doing?

“Yes, Faith? What is it?” 

Faith closed her eyes.  _ This is your chance. Tell him the truth, let him help you. _

_ He’s not your Watcher. He doesn’t even think you should exist. _

_ You’ve already lost her. _

“It’s about...Buffy.”

“Buffy? Is she alright, is she - ”

“She’s fine. Physically, she’s fine. But this is somethin’...well, this is worse. I...I didn’t want to come to you, I mean I thought I could get her to come to you, but she’s just spiralin’ man, she’s like...she’s in a dark place. I think she needs real help.”

Giles didn’t answer, but looked at her intently, with a grave expression of concern on his face.

“It’s about...Deputy Mayor Finch. The murder. It was an accident, she didn’t mean to, I tried to warn her but I mean we thought it was a vamp,  _ I  _ thought it was a vamp too, and she reacted so quickly, I mean, you know, she’s got great reflexes. That’s beside the point. She feels awful, and I’ve been telling her to come to you, that this kinda thing probably happens all the time, right? I mean, not all the time, but...it happens?”

Again Giles remained silent, but removed his glasses and began cleaning them with great focus.

“Thank you for coming to me, Faith,” he said finally. He looked up, directly into her eyes for the first time since she’d arrived, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was very brave of you. And it’s important that we all cooperate now to make sure - ”

He cut off as the door to the library opened. 

“Giles?” The voice was Buffy’s. Faith stiffened, but Giles motioned her to stay in the office, and stepped out. 

“Giles, I know I’ve kept things from you before…”

_ You’ve lost her.  _

With the realization that Buffy had come to betray her, that she had been right, all the negative emotions she’d shoved down with willpower and drugs came surging to the surface. She stood and walked into sight, facing Buffy with defiance on her face.

_ You take from me, I take from you. _

She heard Buffy falter, then stutter something about blowing off schoolwork.  _ God you’re a bad liar _ . 

“It’s ok, Buffy,” Faith interrupted.  _ Don’t bother, Buffy. Beat you to the punch.  _ “I told him.”

For a moment, Buffy’s face flooded with relief, even a hint of joy and...pride? Respect? And in that moment, Faith wished with all her heart she had told Giles the truth.

_ Maybe she would have forgiven you. Just like you, to nuke the best thing that’s ever...but no. No, that look is just relief that she doesn’t have to rat you out. That she can get rid of you without getting her hands dirty. _

“You...you did?”

“I had to. He...he had to know what you did.” She forced her voice to remain casual. Her head spun. She wanted to scream, to run out of the room, maybe to fall on her knees and beg them not to take it all away. 

_ But they will. They. Don’t. Want. You. Look out for yourself. No one else will. _

“What... _I_ did?” Buffy’s expression changed quickly from confusion, to realization, to shock and hurt. “Giles, no,” she said desperately. Faith closed her eyes, unable to look at the other Slayer, the good Slayer,  _ Buffy,  _ the righteous rightful holder of the great duty of power.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Giles said angrily. “I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

_ Just imagine how he’d react if it wasn’t his precious Slayer, his perfect Buffy. She’ll get off easy. She won’t lose anything, not like you would have. You didn't have a choice. _

“You can’t be serious!” Buffy cried. “You’re setting me up?” 

Faith turned her head away as far as she dared, unable to even look at the outline of Buffy’s hurt and horrified face in her peripheral vision. 

“Get in my office,” she heard Giles say. “Faith, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Without hesitation, Faith fled the library, fled the school. The sun was nearly fully visible now, the sky bloody pink and orange. It hurt her eyes. It hurt her head. 

_ You’re setting me up?  _

_ Blood. _

_ Traitor.  _

“ _ SHUT UP!”  _ Faith heard herself yell. It was a strangled, animal sound wrenched from her throat. She clutched her head, digging her nails in, desperately trying to rid herself of the image of Buffy’s face, first relieved, happy,  _ proud _ , then the horror, the disbelief, the shock…

“Stop, stop, stop,” she moaned, sinking to her knees. “Please stop.”

She sat there in the middle of the sidewalk for a while, rocking back and forth, trying to pull together some guiding thought, some justification, some reason to get up.

_ What have you done? _

_ What you had to. She would have taken it away. Everything you’ve built. Everything you have. _

_ Or maybe she would have helped you.  _

“Stop it, just  _ stop it _ .” 

God, what was she doing? On the ground in the middle of Sunnydale, talking to herself and pulling her hair out like a crazy person? 

Angrily - at herself or at Buffy she wasn’t sure - she wiped her tears, brushed the gravel off her knees - ripping her stockings in the process - and got up.

She didn’t really think about where she was going, and so was surprised when she found herself a block away not from the motel, but from Davey’s apartment. She received an extra surprise when she knocked on his door, which was opened not by Davey, but by Alice.

“Faith, thank  _ god _ ,” Alice said, slurring a little. She didn’t look drunk, but she spoke slowly, her eyes slightly glazed. “I came here to see if you were here, I thought...sorry, you should come in…I thought something happened to you. Here.” She shoved three pink oval pills into Faith’s hand.

“Take ‘em, seriously. I woulda given them to you earlier but you were just...gone. I didn’t get a chance to warn you about the come-down...it’s worse than anything else if you don’t have something to smooth it out. Like all your emotions are just in their rawest, purest form...but you probably know that now?”

Saying all of this took an absurdly long time, as Alice kept trailing off, seeming to forget what she was saying for a while. Faith took the pills.

“Yeah, I think I noticed that,” she replied.

“Still a great night though, right?” Alice asked. Faith nodded, her head elsewhere.

_ What are you even doing here?  _

_ This is what you wanted. This is what you betrayed Buffy for.  _

“An amazing night,” she said firmly, a little delayed. Then she reached across the table, pulled Alice towards her, and kissed her roughly.

“Uh, woahh there,” Alice said, laughing. She moved at half Faith’s pace, the Xanax in her system slowing her way down. But then, more slowly than Faith, she leaned forward again and met her halfway. The kiss wasn’t fierce, as Faith craved, but it wasn’t one-sided either. It was someone.

“Woah.” Faith broke the lip-lock when Davey came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and his hair dripping. He was staring at them with evident amusement, and equally evident interest.

Alice laughed. “Bet you’ve seen that image in your own head a time or two,” she teased. Davey gave her an exaggerated glower. 

“That’s between me and my right hand,” he said. 

“Want to change that?” Faith asked, standing up. She grabbed his waist and pulled him roughly towards her, seeking that fierce kiss that Alice was too zombied up to give her.

At first, he didn’t kiss her back. In fact, he pulled back slightly, and she didn’t follow. He gave her a long look, as though searching for something. Then he grabbed her neck, balling her hair in his fist, and kissed her hard.

“Fuuuck,” Alice said from behind them. “That’s exceedingly hot. Wait...holy shit. I just realized we’ve all slept with each other. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious,” Faith said drily. “Are you coming, then?” 

Alice grinned. “In every sense of the word, I hope.”

Quite frankly, it was weird sex. Faith’s initial drive for contact, for blanking out the events of the morning, for someone to treat her as though she mattered, faded soon into a lazy, slow, half-assed threesome. Where she began doing most of the work, Davey soon picked up the slack, clumsily attempting to please both women. Then, as Faith’s lazy hip movements slowed and slowed, he pushed her firmly away and got up.

“Alright, as much as it pains me to ignore two stunning and naked beauties in my bed...y’all are a little out of it.” He left the room, and came back with a bottle of water in each hand.

“I’m gonna give you guys the bed - no funny business, or if you do...I don’t know, record it or something. I have a job interview I need to get ready for.”

Faith sat speechless.

_ Even he doesn’t want to touch you. Disgusting. And why would he? Won’t you just betray him too?  _

_ Selfish bitch. _

When Davey had gone, Faith stumbled up and began dressing.

“Wherrrrya goin’?” Alice asked drowsily. 

“Things to do, see you around,” Faith said flatly. She couldn’t even look at Alice. At one of her reasons for betraying Buffy, and for what? Fucking Xanax sex? God, she had forgotten how much she hated Xanax. It took the edge off, yes, but Faith needed the edge. Without it, she was nothing.

_ You’re nothing anyway, aren’t you? Well, I guess you’re at least a murderer with that natural edge you love so much. _

She stumbled home, too dulled to cry the tears that threatened just behind her eyes. Once home, she collapsed onto the bed, and lay awake the rest of the day in a haze of come-down, Xanax, and self-loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will eventually get less depressing, I swear.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith's worlds merge, and fall apart

It was nearly 36 hours before hunger pushed Faith off of her lumpy, bug-infested mattress. She first pulled the bottle of Evan Williams out from under her bed and took several gulps, pausing to cough in between each. Eyes watering, she dug for a wad of crumpled one-dollar bills in her sock drawer, and hit the vending machine. 

Stumbling as the liquor hit her empty stomach, she barely made it back through the door before collapsing onto the floor. The room spun.

_ What have you done? _

_ Pathetic. The only person who...well, she’s gone now. They all are. They know what you are now. _

_ And Davey? And Alice? _

Would they still want to see her, after she showed up like that, made a fool of herself, then bailed? She cringed at the memory of herself desperately pulling at Davey’s hips, at Alice’s mouth. Trying to prove to herself that she’d done the right thing.

But she had done what she had for a reason. Buffy was never going to forgive her. Buffy hadn’t wanted her around from the beginning, nor Giles, nor any of them. She was never even supposed to exist. 

But Davey, Alice...maybe they didn’t have superpowers. Maybe they didn’t save the world. Hell, maybe they were junkies with room temperature IQs but wasn’t she, too?

Faith forced herself into the shower, forced herself to wash her hair, her body, to put on deodorant and rub dark makeup over her eyes. To pull on a tank top and jeans and a leather jacket. To leave her motel room, and walk the route to Davey’s apartment. To make it worth it.

The sun was setting - was it one day later or two? Could it be three? She honestly didn’t know. Part of her screamed at her to turn back around, to finish the bottle of Evan Williams and slip into unconsciousness. To buy another bottle and perhaps hit someone up for something harder and slip into permanent unconsciousness. But she kept her feet moving.

_ You’re the Slayer. (A Slayer). _

_ You don’t get to just stop. You do what you have to do. You’ve never cared what anyone thought before, why now?  _

Faith stopped short outside of Davey’s apartment complex, because someone was just leaving it. Someone tiny. Someone blonde.

“What are you doing here?” Faith asked Buffy, mind completely blank at this merging of worlds.

Buffy looked back at her, an angry, hard look. 

“You’re still my responsibility,” she said flatly.

“Your...your  _ responsibility?”  _

“Yeah,  _ F _ , my responsibility. I’m supposed to have your back, even when you’re stabbing me in mine.” 

“What...B, what are you doing  _ here _ ?” 

Buffy looked up at the sky, as though asking God for patience. She shifted from one foot to the other, not answering.

“I’m looking out for you,” she said. The two girls stared at each other, one with anger and hurt, the other with mistrust and confusion. Deciding she wasn’t about to get a straight answer from Buffy on a righteous power trip, Faith pushed past her and hurried up the stairs to Davey’s door. She pounded on it furiously, nearly falling through it when it swung open.

“Faith!” Davey’s eyes widened. “What are you...what are you doing here?”

“What did she say to you?” Faith demanded. Davey didn’t answer, but shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, avoiding her eye.

“What did who say to me?” he asked, still not looking at her. But he did open the door to let her in, and closed it behind them.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Davey, what did Buffy say? I saw her leaving just now.”

“She seems like a good friend,” Davey replied in a non-answer. Faith just stared at him, waiting.

“Okay, she just came by to talk about you. She’s worried about you, I think.”

“Davey. What. Did. She.  _ Say? _ ”

“She said that she’s worried about you and asked me not to give you drugs.”

_ Bitch _ .

“Asked you?”

“I mean it was more of an ‘or else’ kind of tone, but honestly she didn’t need to make any threats. I think she’s right, you - ”

“Oh, fucking great,” Faith snarled, throwing her arms up. “ _ So  _ glad I have so many  _ wonderful  _ friends looking out for me, really makes me feel loved and safe. Nothing says true friendship like a junkie telling you to stop doing drugs I mean  _ Christ  _ Davey, looking at your arms! Look at your eyes, while you’re at it.”

Again Davey reminded her forcefully of the stray mutt in Boston, puppy-dog eyes filled with hurt. But this time, she didn’t care so much.

“Fine,” she said. “I find it pretty fuckin’ hilarious that Buffy or you or anyone else would think you have any say over what I do with my own damn life, but there ya go. I can get drugs without you, y’know. Fucking hilarious.”

But she didn’t laugh as she turned and stormed out. She heard wood splinter behind her as she slammed it.

#

_ Fucking self-righteous hypocrites, both of them. I mean what the  _ fuck _ , Davey’s a goddamn junkie, you’re a fucking superhero, and he has the balls to think  _ he  _ needs to look out for  _ you _? _

_ And then there’s Buffy. So fucking perfect, while running around making sure no matter what, I have nothing good in my life.  _

_ You did stab her in the back, though. _

With a groan of frustration, Faith threw herself onto her bed, bottle in hand. None of this was how it was supposed to be. She was a mother. fucking.  _ Slayer.  _

And here she was, getting trashed alone in a seedy motel because a junkie thought she should stop doing drugs.  _ She didn’t even do that much _ . 

“Fuck!” she yelled, throwing the empty bottle at the wall. 

#

Faith dreamed chaotic, uncontrolled whisky dreams. She dreamed of Finch, of her stake pushing easily into his heart, of his blood on her hands, pooling around her, consuming her. Then the blood was water, and she and Buffy were swimming, naked and sparkling and laughing in the sunlight. Then Buffy was screaming, something pulling her under, the water turning darker. 

Faith dove down to save her, only to see her own hand pulling her down, sinking with her to the bottom. 

When they reached the bottom, they surfaced.  _ Are you okay?  _ Faith asked. 

Buffy looked at her with big puppy-dog eyes.

Buffy reached out with one hand, fingers holding just off the skin of Faith’s cheek.

Buffy put her hand on the top of Faith’s head and pushed down.

_ NO!  _ She tried to scream, but water filled her lungs. Or was it blood?

Hands grabbed her ankles, pulling her down. Hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her out.

Davey stood on the shore, covered in blood up to the elbows from pulling her out.

_ Thank you _ , she tried to say, but Davey wasn’t there anymore. In his place was a blood-covered mutt, who looked up at her with big, scornful eyes. Then he ran off down the beach.

#

Waking with a start, Faith instinctively looked down at her body, half expecting to see blood. But there was only her, half-naked, bruised from God knows what, and shaking like a leaf.

She got up and dressed quickly, putting on the warmest clothes she’d brought with her. The forecast has been classic sunny California, but she felt chilled to the bone, even under a black long-sleeved undershirt, a Radiohead tee, a grey zip-up hoodie, and her leather jacket. 

It was nearing evening. Had it been just yesterday morning that she saw Buffy at Davey’s? That she stormed off, calling him a hypocrite and a junkie?

She closed her eyes. 

_ Don’t let that massive ego get in the way of the few things you have left. _

#

She arrived at Davey’s door just as the sun was setting. It turned the sky a beautiful, terrible red, covering everything in a dark light. 

“Davey?” she called. She heard movement inside, but he didn’t answer the door. “Hey, Davey, I know you probably don’t wanna talk, but...well, I gotta say I’m sorry. I said some shitty stuff and you were just trying to help, I know. It’s just...I can take care of myself, alright? That’s all. Come on, man, just let me apologize to your face?”

After a long pause, the door opened. Davey stood there, and Faith was surprised to see he was smiling. He didn’t look angry or sad or hurt. 

“Davey--” she began, ready to launch into another apology. But she stopped short. Something was wrong. 

She looked at him, fighting the urge to back away, trying to see with her eyes what she felt in her very cells.

Davey stood in front of her, smiling, but the light didn’t reach his eyes. Her skin hummed.

“ _ No,”  _ she breathed, as she realized what it was that felt so wrong.

She couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the medium-long delay. Frankly, this was an emotionally taxing chapter to write.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suffering a loss, Faith seeks revenge--and finds she has a taste for killing, after all.
> 
> Frankly I refuse to accept Faith attempting to rape/murder Xander as canon, so this is an alternative version of those events that more or less preserves the arc of the story.

“No, no _ , no, _ ” Faith breathed. “Davey…”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” he grinned. “You really  _ do  _ care about me. See, when the guys learned I fucked a Slayer, well, first they didn’t believe me. But after going into some detail, there was quite the debate over whether you were just using me. Some of ‘em just wanted to leave my body on your doorstep, so I for one am glad they decided I was worth a shot.”

Faith let him speak, frozen to the spot.

“How?” she choked out, shock closing her throat.

“Well, after your friend came to see me - the cute blonde, I’ll probably be paying her a visit when I’m done with you - my deeply caring, loving, human self went to put you on a blacklist with Pete. Of course, I didn’t know then that my drug dealer was a vampire.” His voice dripped with disdain and delight. “Anyway, long story short, I’m no longer the deeply pathetic waste of space you once knew, a waste of space that couldn’t even satisfy you…”

As he spoke, he reached across the threshold and grabbed Faith’s arm. His grip was surprisingly gentle. She shifted the stake in the sleeve of her jacket, but allowed him to pull her in. She couldn’t bring herself to dust him. Not quite yet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking into his cold, cruel eyes. 

“I’m not,” he said. “And you might not be either...I was a little blinded by bloodlust for a while there, but I certainly don’t have to kill you yet…”

He pulled her even closer, wrapping a hand around her waist, tilting her chin up to him.

“I’m not the passive fuck you once knew.” He winked and kissed her, frozen lips feeling as dead as the rest of him. He let go of her wrist and slid the cold hand under the waistband of her jeans, making her gasp and tense.

“See? I knew I still did it for you.”

Breath hitching, Faith closed her eyes. Cold hands aside, for one short moment she pretended he was still Davey. Images flashed through her head, real and imagined: her on top of Davey, moving slowly, eyes locked; her opening her eyes, kissing him, warm lips; her grabbing his waist in the kitchen, pulling him around; her pushing a stake through his heart, cold, dead body shattering to dust.

She didn’t open her eyes until the dust had settled. Then she closed the still-open door behind her and sunk to the ground.

#

When Faith left Davey’s apartment, the sun was down. She wasn’t sure if it was the same night, or the next. Perhaps it had only been a few hours? Perhaps it had been days?

After a while, she had gotten up off the floor. She searched Davey’s apartment, whether for clues or drugs she couldn’t be sure. She would hunt down the vampires who killed him, of course ( _ as though you’re not the one responsible?)  _ and make them pay ( _ what about you? What about Buffy? She sent him straight to them as much as you did) _ , but first she would clear out anything from Davey’s apartment that could make him look bad. At least, that’s what she told herself as she gathered up his stores of pills, coke, and hedony. The heroin she flushed. She couldn’t bear the memory of his dull eyes, lacking all spark and puppy-dog cuteness. 

She went back to the motel. She considered stopping by Alice’s apartment first, to make sure she was safe at the very least, but she couldn’t bear the thought of speaking to the girl, pretending Davey wasn’t...pretending she didn’t know where Davey was.

_ Pathetic. She could be dead and you don’t even want to  _ deal  _ with it.  _

At the motel, she paced. She polished off the bottles under her bed--both nearly empty anyway--and threw them at the wall. Someone banged against the thin drywall on the other side, shouting incoherently.

_ This is your fault. _

_ And Buffy? The one who actually sent him straight to them? You’re just gonna let her off free, like everything else, Buffy takes no blame? _

_ Well, you did stab her in the back. _

_ Better than the heart. _

_ Murderer. _

Head spinning, Faith regretted flushing the heroin. But it was for the best. She still had to find the vamps who killed Davey. At the very least, she was good for something: killing.

But first...she hesitated over the pouch of drugs. Not out of any kind of moral or even health doubts, but out of indecision. Cocaine would push the painful parts of emotion down, but not for long. And she couldn’t afford a crash until her task was done. Strange as it seemed to take what acted most similarly to a party drug to go hunting, the stuff really was magic.

So, she took a dab of the hedony and rubbed it over her gums. The energy would keep her going, and she hoped the flood of chemicals to the brain would push down the thoughts she couldn’t yet deal with.

Ten minutes later, she left for the Bronze.

#

“Lookin’ for a guy, sells some real primo shit, not the kind of stuff you can find just anywhere, y’know?” 

Faith had sidled up to a promising-looking candidate, a guy who looked not-quite-homeless, but decidedly rough. They were tucked in the corner of the Bronze, leaning against the wall. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“I’ve got some pretty primo shit, sweetheart,” he said. He patted his pants pocket.

_ Ew. _

“Yeah...I need to speak to the source.”

The hedony was making her feel alive, powerful, wonderful...and extremely impatient.

“Bet I could introduce you...but there's gonna be a price, doll,” the guy said.

In an instant, Faith moved from his side to in front of him, blocking him from view of the room. She placed a vice-like grip around his balls. That had always been a favorite move of hers. He dropped his plastic cup and let out a pathetic whimper, which no one heard over the dull roar of voices and music in the Bronze.

“Not your doll. And how about the price is, I don’t remove your testicles from your body and leave you bleeding on the floor here?” She whispered the threat as seductively as she could. His eyes widened, and she bit back a laugh.

“Jesus, are you insane--AH!” He cut off the rest of that sentence as she gave her hand a firm twist.

“The docks, the docks!” he said in a panic. She didn’t release him.

“Yeah...coulda guessed that.  _ Where  _ by the docks? And a name. Then I let you go.”

“It’s just an old warehouse, but it used to be some major facility for like, weapons or shit, it’s got guard towers and weird shit like that, that’s why they use it.”

“And who is they?”

“Guy named Pete is who I always talk to, then there’s his boss, sallow looking guy with a big scar--”

“He’s dead. Boss guy. Just Pete, then? You don’t know anyone else?”

“I think there’s a woman that handles some of their deals, redhead, kinda scary, but I don’t know her name  _ I swear I don’t know her name-- _ ”

“Fine.” Faith dropped him, letting him fall back with a gasp against the wall.

“Psycho cunt,” she heard him mutter behind her as she turned to leave. She turned back.

“ _ What  _ did you say?” she hissed. His eyes widened. 

“H-h-how d--” 

“I have good hearing. Something you want to say to my face?”

She made this as easy as possible, bringing her own face right up to his.

“N-no, sorry, I’m sorry,” he stuttered out. She bit back another laugh.  _ At least you’re not  _ this  _ pathetic. _

“Good,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Glad to hear it.” 

She made a point of not looking back as she left this time.

#

She made a brief stop at the bar, where the bartender was just skeevy enough to offer her and her ample breasts a secretive shot of vodka, though not quite skeevy enough to let her walk off with a drink in her hand. But that was fine. She wasn’t here to mingle, and she had an appointment at the docks. She strode out of the Bronze with purpose, turning down the alley towards the seedier part of town.

“Hey, bitch!” The voice was familiar, though it sounded very different in its natural register, and not the high-pitched whine of pleading. The guy she’d just twisted for information. Did he have a death wish? Some kind of ball-twisting kink he couldn’t get enough of? Stranger things had happened.

She turned, mildly surprised to find he wasn’t alone. In fact, four other men stood with him, all looking rather tough, leering and angry. For the third time in just a few minutes, she bit back a laugh. 

“Oh my,” she said with sickly innocence. “Now what could all these big strong men want, alone in an alley, with an innocent young girl like me?” She placed a hand over her heart and batted her eyelashes. 

The man she’d already met took a few steps forward. Still smiling, she scanned the small crowd. A crowbar, two pieces of rebar, and a 2-by-4. No guns, and no knives she could see yet. She was almost disappointed. This would be too easy.

She kept a placid smile on her face as they approached, allowing them to back her down the alley and out of sight of the traffic going in and out of the Bronze.

“All of you at once? Well, I guess it wouldn't be the most--”

With a growl, the leader charged at her, swinging the piece of rebar in his hand right at her head. She ducked, grabbing it a good six inches from her face and ripping it out of his hand. With an animalistic growl, he charged her again, now weaponless. She dropped down to one knee, letting him hang himself with his own momentum. He went flying over her head with the barest push.

Then the rest of his crew caught up. Faith ducked under a baseball bat coming at her head, then jumped over the crowbar that came to meet her knees. Whirling, she punched the nearest assailant in the nose, and was rewarded with a satisfying  _ crunch _ . He dropped to the ground.

She kicked out to clear a space behind her, then turned to survey the remaining crowd. The man with the broken nose was lying still, but the first attacker was limping back, looking angrier than ever. 

“Boys, boys, boys,” Faith said. “Always so  _ violent _ . Didn’t mothers ever teach you to use your  _ words  _ and not your  _ fists _ ?”

_ W _ _ ords  _ and  _ fists  _ came out with an extra emphasis, as  she landed two more solid punches with each word. Using the alley wall for a little extra power, she then pushed off and launched a two-footed kick at the original instigator, the man from inside. It connected powerfully with his chest. The one remaining relatively uninjured crony stared at her with wide eyes. His piece of rebar clattered to the ground as he turned and ran. She grinned.

“Now, now,” Faith said, advancing on the cowering man on the ground. She heard the groans of the others behind her, but they didn’t seem likely to give her any problems quite yet. “You’ve gotten your blood on one of my favorite jackets. And I gotta tell ya, I don’t  _ have  _ that many jackets. So this one, I’m gonna have to wash. Do you have  _ any  _ idea how much I hate washing blood out of my clothes? Trust me when I say, I'd _much_ rather not. But, since it's already ruined, I'm not too bothered about the blood I'm about to add to it.”

His eyes widened. He tried to scramble backwards as she advanced, but fell. She helped him out by pushing him all the way back, until he was laying flat in his back. She kept him down with her own weight, straddling him. She placed her hands around his neck.

“You have no clue what you’re dealing with here,” she hissed, beginning to squeeze. His eyes bulged. “Psycho cunt? You have  _ no  _ idea. I’m a murderer, you know.” 

The man gargled. His face was turning from red to purple.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that. You’ll have to speak up. Oh wait...”

His eyes began to turn from terror to blankness as he started to black out. 

Faith felt a ripple of wind behind her, and whirled around. She hadn’t heard footsteps--how had she not heard his footsteps? 

She saw two last things before she lost consciousness: Angel’s face, and a two-by-four headed straight for hers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Buffy try to save a wary Faith

Faith opened her eyes slowly, blearily, unsure where she was. It was dark—not pitch black dark, but creepy, torch-light dark.

_Where the fuck…_

_How did I get here?_

Her eyes snapped open, no longer sleepy. Angel. Angel had hit her. In the _face_. She reached up to feel the swelling bruise, and was surprised by the weight of her arms. Looking down, she saw thick metal chains running from cuffs around her hands.

_Huh. Wonder if he and Buffy ever used these. That would be inter--_

Interrupting her thoughts, a tall, brooding form stirred in the shadowy corner. Seeing she was awake, Angel leaned forward into the light. He smiled at her. Not a friendly or happy smile, exactly, but not a cold or false one, either. It had a hint of apology in it, a hint of pity, and a lot of condescension.

“Chains, huh? Kinky.” She pulled at the cuffs on her wrist, following the chains up with her eyes to where they met the wall. They looked sturdy.

“You’re not evil again, are you?” she asked Angel. Just to be sure.

“No,” he answered. “Are you?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m a front-stabbing, back-stabbing, anywhere-stabbing bitch, or haven’t you heard?” She tugged at the chains.

“Who would I have heard that from?” he asked softly. She looked away.

“I figure B sent you to—”

“Buffy just wants to help you.”

“Oh yeah? Are you sure about that, Angel? From what I hear, last time Buffy helped you, you ended up tortured in a Hell dimension for several eternities. Seems to me, maybe good old B isn’t quite as selfless with the ones she--”

“Loves?” 

Faith looked up at him sharply. “That’s you, not me. I was just gonna say fights with. Anyway, what are you gettin’ out of this? Buffy promise you some favors for yankin’ out the thorn in her side, or is it enough reward for you to get to chain me up?” She tugged on the chains again, more forcefully.

 _Self-righteous prick. You killed_ way _more people than me, and yours were on purpose._

She took a deep breath. The hedony in her veins made her head pound. Not unpleasantly, but powerfully. Every emotion amplified, she fought between the urge to scream at Angel, to call him a hypocrite and an evil, dead thing, and the urge to sob onto his shoulder, to beg him to show her how to live with being filth.

Angel sighed. “You wanna go the long way around, hey—I can do that.” He turned and walked towards the door. “I’m not getting any older, after all.”

#

When he disappeared out of sight, Faith closed her eyes. She wondered if the drug might actually amplify her powers--generally, uppers like this only made you _feel_ more powerful, but this shit was clearly not entirely chemical. There was magic there.

She gave the chain her hardest tug yet. It still didn’t budge.

 _Fuck_. 

She rattled it harder, but stopped when she heard distant voices, just loud enough for her to make out.

“ _Don’t get your hopes up, Buffy. She may not want us to help her.”_

_“She does. She just doesn’t know it--”_

_“She killed a man, Buffy. That changes everything for her...she’s taken a life. She’s got a taste for it now.”_

A cold feeling settled in Faith’s chest, underneath the building pressure of the drug’s later phase, the less pleasant, more powerful one. It made her shake, and she willed herself to stop before Angel came back and saw that weakness.

_Don’t get your hopes up, Buffy._

Even Angel, arguably the only person with more of a do-gooder attitude than B, thought she was a lost cause. And why wouldn’t he?

Then again, there had been something in Buffy’s voice. Something earnest, and a little desperate. Could she really still not want Faith gone? Or did she just want to feel like the good guy again, use “saving” Faith to make herself feel better about her part in Finch’s death? 

_God, B, why won’t you hate me already?_

_Or do you?_

She closed her eyes, wishing she could re-up on the hedony. It lasted a hell of a long time, sure, but she needed more than a little lift at the moment.

A light interrupted her thoughts. Even through her closed eyelids, she could see the air in front of her get brighter. She opened her eyes.

Buffy stood in front of her, glowing again. For a moment, Faith forgot to be angry, forgot she was chained to a wall. She stared at Buffy in awe.

“Faith?” Buffy said gently. She looked a little wary, and a little confused. Faith snapped her mouth closed and looked away sullenly, embarrassed.

“So, you and your boyfriend tryin’ to spice it up in the bedroom--or, drafty castle lobby, I guess? Coulda just asked, y’know.” She winked at Buffy, and felt a sick satisfaction at the look of hurt on the other Slayer’s face.

“Faith, please. Please, just talk to me. Let me help you.”

“ _Help_ me?” Faith smiled, a sneering, bitter smile. “Like you were gonna _help_ me by going to Giles? Like you _helped_ me by going to Davey and--”

“I’m scared!” Buffy cut in. “You’re hurting, I _know_ you are, you can deny it all you like but know it. And then you’re doing drugs and hanging out with that dealer and--”

“Don’t worry, B, that’s over.” It came out with all the bitterness she felt, and Buffy took a step back.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Buffy said softly. 

“Ever tried removing the stick from your ass?”

She glared at Buffy defiantly, wishing the other Slayer would just get mad, stop playing the infinitely _good_ and _kind_ and _caring_ Slayer and just let it go for once. But no such luck.

“I won’t give up on you,” Buffy said. 

“Great!” Faith said with all the false brightness she could muster. “I’m cured. Amazing what the power of love can do.” She grinned, a plastered, psychotic grin. Another wave of sick satisfaction came over her as Buffy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Faith…” Buffy moved closer again, reaching out a hand. Inches from Faith’s face, she stopped and let it drop. She swallowed hard, audibly.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you really don’t care! Acting like you want to be alone in the world, like everyone’s your enemy, like _I’m_ \--”

“Oh, I dunno, B. Why are you still acting like you do care? You can’t fool me. I’m a....blemish on your perfect record. You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing this for you. You’re doing this so you can keep pretending you’re just a nice, normal, hot chick who happens to have powers, so you can keep denying that you fucking _radiate_ power, that the rules don’t apply to you, and me. But I know deep down, you feel it too.”

Perhaps that was the hedony talking, a bit. But looking at Buffy, glittering like sun on fresh snow, like diamonds...it was also true.

Buffy sat down on the floor, leaning her head against the wall. The movement brought her face within six inches of Faith’s. She gave her a long, level look.

“Could you really be that dense?” she asked, shaking her head side to side, still resting against the wall. “After everything we’ve been through together, could you really still not know me? Maybe you’re right.” She sat forward swiftly, but didn’t get up. “Maybe I don’t know you, after all.”

“And maybe you don’t know half as much as you think you do, period,” Faith jumped in, suddenly angry, suddenly filled with surging chemicals. Her body didn’t feel her own anymore, chained to a wall, riddled with memories from a life she couldn’t bear to think of, being lectured at by someone who had just sent a perfectly decent man, albeit a drug dealer, to his death. 

“Maybe every perfect thing in your life up til now has made you blind to the way things really are. Maybe you don’t know a damn thing about what it’s like to suffer, what it’s like to have nothing and no one. You might be a Slayer, but your biggest issues are still whether or not you’ll make the goddamn cheerleading team and--”

Faith cut off in shocked silence as Buffy slapped her hard across the face.

“You know nothing about what I’ve been through,” Buffy said in a low voice, pulling back. “You’ve heard the cliffnotes but my life is like...one of those long, messy, complicated shitstorm novels that you have to pretend to read for sadistic English teachers. I _died_ , Faith, that’s why you even _exist._ And then I had to come back, and save the world again by murdering the one person I loved most in the world so you have _no_ right. You have no right to act like I don’t know suffering. This chip on your shoulder isn’t stoic. You’re not some brave tortured soul with thick walls around her, you’re just another bitter, angry bitch too caught up in her own shit to care about anyone else.”

Buffy stood quickly, her lips tight, eyes watery. She turned to go.

“B--” Faith couldn’t think of another word. She let the letter hang in the air. Buffy paused, but didn’t turn around. Then she walked out of the archway.

_You idiot._

_She still cares._

_Not after that display. You’re a real, unbelievable bitch._

_Well so is she!_

“I know what’s going on with.” Faith’s inner argument was cut off by the re-entrance of Angel. 

“Join the club. Everybody seems to have a theory.” She looked away. She didn’t feel up to bantering anymore.

“I know the power in it,” Angel continued. “All the possibilities of a life, snuffed out by your hand...it was like a drug for me.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you need some help. A professional, maybe.”

“A professional couldn’t have helped me,” he laughed. A dry, brittle, humorless laugh. His eyes were dark and haunted, and for a moment Faith felt a tug of sympathy, and respect, and familiarity. 

“It started when I got my soul back. My human conscience.”

Faith looked away again.

“Well, I’ve already got one of those.” _And what, it’s so rotted and filthy you might as well be a soulless, dead thing? Great pep talk, Angel._

“Faith, you have a choice. You’ve tasted something few ever do. To kill without remorse is to feel like a God--”

“Right now all _feel_ is a cramp in my wrist, so just fucking let me _go_ ,” Faith stood, pulling the mess of chains with her. She couldn’t deal with this now, with the drugs finally leaving her system, leaving her a shell again, and trapped here, unable to change anything about it, unable to even tamp it down with her array of chemical assistants. The high, wide walls of the drafty castle seemed to be closing in on her, and she found herself breathing hard. Her lungs wouldn’t fill.

“Let me go,” she said again, sinking to the floor. “Please, let me go.”

Angel looked at her, and behind the tough-love veneer she saw a deepy pity. That look released the last of her will, and she cried.

“I can’t do this,” she said into the floor. “Just make it stop.”

“I can’t make it stop,” Angel said softly. “But you can. By feeling it through. By not pushing it down. I can see it there, right now, on the surface. Faith, it’s gonna hurt, but I promise you if you just go _through_ it you _will_ come out the other side.

“You know, Faith, you and me are a lot alike. Time was, I thought people just existed to hurt each other. But then I came here. I found people who genuinely want to do right--and don’t get me wrong, they fall down, and make mistakes, sometimes ugly, hard ones. But they keep coming back. So you can trust us, Faith, you don’t have to disappear into the darkness--”

He cut off suddenly, looking up in alarm as the door crashed open. Faith looked up to see that British Watcher prick enter, backed by a few tough-looking men. Taking Angel by surprise, they knocked him down, threw a net over him, and began kicking and beating him.

“Wait!” she yelled. “This isn’t--don’t hurt him, he’s not what you think, this is all a misundersta--” 

Wesley knelt down and began unlocking her wrists. She started to rise, when she felt the return of cold metal on her skin. She looked down to see a slimmer, newer cuff around her left wrist.

“What?” Her brain fought to catch up to what was happening. 

“By order of the Watcher’s Council,” Wesley said in a high, pompous tone. “I am placing you under arrest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Wesley later but for current purposes he is in fact the worst


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Wesley have a little chat

Faith watched herself be loaded into the back of a repurposed prison van, as though watching a movie. 

She thought about how satisfying it would be to punch that stuck-up British prick’s nose right into his brain. But even that didn’t keep her spirits up for long.

_Could it be a coincidence that Buffy walked left, then the douchecanoe from the Watcher’s Council shows up 15 minutes later?_

_Sure, Buffy might betray_ you _, but she wouldn’t betray Angel. Would she?_

_Unless he was in on it too. Keep me occupied while Buffy went to get the cavalry…_

_But then, why not just leave me chained to the wall? Why the whole speech about souls and conscience and going through the pain?_

_Maybe Angel’s just a sadist. They say vamps reflect the person they used to be._

Faith could move her arms just enough to get her fingertips to her temples. She rubbed them, trying to soothe the battling voices within. She couldn’t think clearly. She hadn’t slept in God knows how long. She hadn’t needed to, with chemical assistance. But now, with it leaving her system, the sleeplessness was catching up to her. 

“I’m sorry for the extreme measures.” Wesley’s insufferable British voice broke through her ruminations. “But these are rather extreme circumstances.”

She looked up at him sharply. What the hell did he know about her circumstances? Who the hell did he think he was, passing judgement on her, on a Slayer? Who gave him the authority? A bunch of uptight Brits living it up in England, a bunch of old white dudes who only bothered to remove the sticks from their asses when there was a teenage girl to keep in line? 

They didn’t know the first thing about vampires, or power, or her. Yet there he sat, judging _her_. 

“Please believe,” Wesley continued earnestly. “Nobody is rushing to judgement. The priority of both myself and the council is to help you.”

 _Oh, sure. Just like Buffy wanted to help. Just like Angel wanted to help. You all want to_ help _me right into a steel cage unless you can find a way to control me like a little puppet._

Faith tugged at the chain that connected her wrists to the wooden seat of the van. 

“I don’t need your help,” she said. 

“Don’t you?”

“No, actually, I’ve been doing just fine on my own for a Hell of a long time, in fact my life was just peachy until you and your fucking _council_ showed up, dragged me off to be trained like a little monkey and--”

“You would talk about your previous Watcher like that?” Wesley asked quietly. “Your Watcher who died for you, who died giving you time to escape from Kakistos? One might even say that helping you was what killed her, so me putting myself on the line here to help--” 

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about her,” Faith snarled. Wesley paused, then sat back, an infuriating look of both pity and satisfaction on his face. “You don’t know the first thing about that, that’s not the same--”

“Isn’t it? Your Watcher died _helping_ you, because you have a sacred duty. And so too am I trying to help you now.” He looked unbearably smug.

“Perfect,” Faith said brightly, a little maniacally. “Let me out of these things and I’ll _help_ you die for me.” She gave another hard tug on the chain. It gave a little. The mention of her former Watcher, of what had happened to her, ignited something in Faith. Anger and rage flared, and a small part of her still capable of thinking of anything else noted that the feeling of power was not unlike hedony after the first few hours. Well, that figured. Anger had always been her best motivator. 

“Ah,” Wesley said, looking from her eyes to the chain uneasily. “None of that. Tighten her restraints.” He directed this last towards the bulky man accompanying them, presumably in case of violence. As if some big muscles could help in the slightest against a Slayer.

Keeping her outward appearance stable, slouched and relaxed and sullen, she tensed all her muscles. This was her opportunity, possibly her only opportunity, to live the rest of her life anywhere but in a cage in the company of no one but a bunch of Wesley Wyndam-Prices.

The man leaned over her to reach the restraint. _Wait for it_. She had to find the right opportunity. She couldn't fuck this up. 

As he leaned over her, his hand brushed along the inside of her upper thigh. 

“Big mistake,” she whispered. He looked at her, blank and confused, for just a brief moment. Then realization of what she intended dawned, and he tried to back away. But it was far too late.

Swinging her leg out, she hooked her foot behind his ankle and yanked. He crashed to the floor at her feet, where she immediately crushed him under her boot. She heard a satisfying crunch.

“Now, Wesley," she said sweetly, calmly. "I think we were talking about helping me, were we not?" She twisted her foot. The man gave a pained cry. "So help me out of these cuffs, or I help his brain out of his skull.”

Wesley paused for a moment, and for that brief moment Faith wondered if she might have misjudged the man. Maybe Wes had a little oomph in him after all. But, as she expected, he didn’t have it in him to let even some low-life Watcher muscle scumbag die. He hurried up, hands shaking as he brought the key into the lock of the chain.

“Faith, you really don’t want to--”

“Live the rest of my life in a cage? Trust me, _Wes_ , there’s nowhere I wouldn’t rather be than the place that created you.”

When she was free, she considered the man still under her foot for a moment. It would be easy to kill him. He likely deserved it. But then...well, they’d just look for her all the harder if she killed one of their own. It was just practical, letting him live. It wasn’t about saving her soul, or her guilt, or any of the bullshit Angel had tried to feed her. No. No no, this was purely, entirely, 100% a practical move. Nothing else.

Instead, she kicked him hard in the face. In the same motion, she brought her knee up, slamming it into Wesley’s chin. He buckled to the ground, unconscious.

_That should give you time to…_

_To what? Keep running for the rest of your life?_

She went straight back to the motel, where she gathered all her important belongings into a single, over-the-shoulder pack: a couple of changes of clothes, a tiny and rumpled wad of cash (mostly ones), an engraved Zippo, a tiny wolf figurine, and of course the now respectably large stash of various drugs in her possession. She put a dab of hedony on her tongue, tucked the rest away, and walked out the door.

It was time to get out of town.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy finds Faith at the docks

Faith hurried down the sidewalk, head on a swivel. At this point, she’d lost track of the number of people she had to watch out for. The Vamps with the drug operation were probably aware Davey hadn’t killed her by now, and might come after her. The Mayor might know who had killed his assistant by now, and it was clear he wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up. 

Then Angel and Buffy, and the Watcher’s Council of course. Those might be working together, but she couldn’t be sure. They had sure beat the hell out of Angel, which made it seem like at least he probably didn’t have anything to do with Wesley’s interference. Still, he and Buffy had played right into their hands. That’s what you get when you trust people. And Buffy had wanted her to go to the Council voluntarily? Yeah. Sure.

She ducked into an alley as she heard a siren ahead. She held her breath in the darkness as the cop car rolled slowly past her and down the street. Looking for her? Maybe. Her heart thudded. It passed, and she slipped back onto the street, trying to look unsuspicious.

She was briefly relieved when she arrived at the docks without running into anyone else. It was late now. Vampire hours. She just wanted to hop into the storage compartment of any old boat, get to a more major town, and hitch it from there to Mexico. She’d always been a winter person, but the sun could probably grow on her. She’d make Mexico work.

Her skin hummed, a sixth sense heightened by the drugs in her system. She whirled around.

Buffy stood at the edge of the dock, hair wind-swept, eyes wide. Glowing, as usual. Or at least as usual when Faith was on drugs, which she usually was.

“Faith, wait!” Buffy called. Despite herself, Faith paused. 

“So what’s the game plan, B?” she called back. “Keep me busy ‘til Wesley shows up with his thugs, tie me to a rock and toss me in the river cuz I’m too much trouble? I ain’t going to jail, or anywhere like it.”

“There’s no one else coming. It’s just me. I’ll vouch for you,” Buffy responded, taking a few steps forward. Faith held her ground. “We just have to explain what happened, that it was an accident, and we’ll work it out. You just have to trust--”

“I don’t have to trust anyone,” Faith cut her off. “And I know enough to know I definitely shouldn’t.”

She held Buffy’s gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. 

“Not even me?” Buffy asked quietly. Faith looked back up at her. “I get that you don’t trust the Council, and...well, I don’t blame you. And you don’t know Giles that well, or my friends, or Angel. But me? God, Faith, night after night fighting side by side, saving each other’s asses, and you still don’t trust me?”

“You were going to turn me in to Giles.”

“Yeah, Faith. And you beat me to it. Except, if I remember correctly, you tried to throw me under the bus. And I’m  _ still  _ here trying to help you.”

Part of her wanted to look away, but Faith couldn’t tear herself from Buffy’s gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” she said dully, staring straight ahead. Buffy looked surprised by this. She took a few more steps forward, closing the gap. They now stood a mere three feet apart.

“Then come back with me. We’ll sort it out.”

Faith still didn’t move. “I can’t,” she said.

Buffy sighed. She turned her head and looked out over the dark, moonlit water. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” she said. “Vamp city, dangerous, smells like piss and worse, but beautiful. It’s...it’s not perfect. But it’s worth coming back to, fighting the vamps around here, cleaning it up.”

Her words hung heavy, then Faith reached out and grabbed Buffy’s chin in her hand, pulling her back around to look at her and closing the distance between them entirely. 

“I’m not some real estate project,” she said, a little angrily. “Look at me--no, really  _ look  _ at me. I’m not a pretty sea bay with some barnacles on it, Buffy. I fucking killed someone. And you know what? Angel’s dead right. It felt good. It felt powerful.” She dropped her hand from Buffy’s chin, but the blonde Slayer didn’t move. 

“It felt powerful,” Faith repeated. “And you know what else? I’m high as a kite right now. Not sure when the last time I saw you sober was, actually. So please, Buffy, before you start talking about cleaning up the docks, take a  _ real  _ look at me. No rose-tinted glasses, just the facts. Then tell me you want me back in your perfect little scooby gang, tell me you could trust me to have your back out there, tell me--”

Faith stopped speaking when Buffy reached a hand out. For a moment, she thought she might slap her again. But instead, Buffy placed her fingers gently on Faith’s cheek. To her horror, Faith realized she was wiping tears off her face. She hadn’t even noticed she was crying. 

“If I tell you that, will you come back with me?” Buffy asked softly. “If I tell you I can trust you, if I tell you I want you in my life, will you stay?”

Faith hadn’t expected that. She couldn’t think of a response, with Buffy’s hand still touching her cheek. Why was it still touching her cheek? She could feel the warmth of Buffy’s breath on her face.

The blonde Slayer was centimeters from her. Touching her. If before her skin had hummed to alert her to Buffy’s presence, now it sang. 

“I…” Faith tried to speak, but couldn’t think of anything to say. She reached her own hand up, placing it on top of Buffy’s. Their hands rested against Faith’s cheek like that for what seemed like an eternity, eyes locked. Buffy’s eyes pleading, Faith’s uncertain. Then a movement over Buffy’s shoulder caught Faith’s attention. Two men stood at the end of the dock.

“You  _ bitch _ ,” she exclaimed, pulling back. “You set me up!” Buffy’s eyes widened in shock and confusion, then she whirled around.

“I didn’t!” she said. “Faith, I didn’t, I don’t know…” But she didn’t have to finish. As the men approached, they both saw that it wasn’t Council men. It was vampires.

They rushed the blonde Slayer, who was closer to them. Surprised, Buffy was a little late to the draw, and the larger of the two landed a solid punch that sent her flying into a stack of crates. For a moment, Faith hesitated. It would be a good time to run. Buffy could handle herself, she always had. This might be the only time she’d get to get away without being followed. Again.

“Faith,” she heard Buffy gasp. The vamp had her pinned down, hands around her throat.

_ Fuck _ . Taking off at a run, Faith was behind the vamp in seconds. He was dust before she even stopped moving.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, taking Faith’s outstretched hand.

“Uh, yeah,” Faith grunted. 

“My turn,” Buffy pushed Faith to the side as the second vamp came at her exposed back, dropping low and letting the vamp’s weight carry him over her head. He came up growling.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that,” he said. “Keep you alive for a nice, long while. Who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself a little...not likely though.”

“Yeah, I doubt you have a whole lot going on for anyone to enjoy,” Faith put in, staring pointedly at the vamp’s crotch. He turned towards her instead, growling deep in his throat again.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he sneered.

Faith glanced towards Buffy, who looked as amused as she.

“Um...sorry man, but you do realize you’re alone, fighting not one but  _ two  _ Slayers?” she asked.

Now the vamp looked more bewildered than pissed off. He looked from Faith to Buffy. “Ain’t there only one Slayer?”

“Uh...Jesus, where have you been?” Buffy asked. “I thought all you vamps knew the deal like, telepathically or something. Part of the bumpy-head, blood-craving, minion-of-evil package.”

Faith nodded. “It’s a whole thing,” she explained unhelpfully. “Short of it is, you have a rare and exciting choice of death by Slayer, or death by...other Slayer.”

The vamp snarled and charged at Buffy, presumably hoping the smaller Slayer would be an easier target. He was wrong, of course. Faith, with her generally hang-loose, go-with-the-flow attitude towards fighting was liable to slip up every once in a while. Add the drugs, a vamp may even have a shot someday. That was half the thrill.

But Buffy denied that thrill. She took no chances, and practiced every move to perfection. So as the vamp rushed her, she dropped back into a classic self-defense crouch, allowing him to overbalance as she dropped out of reach. Using his weight and momentum against him, she pushed up just as he went over her, launched him several yards.

“Nice one,” Faith said, meaning it. “May I?”

Buffy held out a stake, but Faith still had hers in hand. “I’m good, B.,” she said.

She advanced on the vamp as he scrambled to his feet. He gave her a wary look. 

“Lucky shot for the little girl. She won’t be so lucky next time. And you, you won’t be so lucky right--”

He cut off abruptly and looked in surprise down at his chest. The stake that Faith had held in her hand a moment before clattered to the ground.

“Nice one,” Buffy said, mirroring Faith’s words. She flashed a grin, which Buffy returned. Then both smiles fell.

“I need to leave, B,” Faith said. “There’s no way they’ll let me just...go back to life now, not after everything.”

“Then we’ll make them,” Buffy said, surprising Faith.

“That’s a rulebreaker’s attitude.”

“You’re not right about everything. But you’re right that we are special. We have power that they need. They have to listen to us--”

“They have to listen you, maybe,” Faith corrected. “I was never supposed to exist. I’m disposable.”

“I might have been dead just ten fucking minutes ago if it weren’t for you.” 

“You can handle yourself,” Faith waved her off. “You would’ve been fine.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Buffy’s eyes were earnest and sad.

“See  _ what _ ?” Faith asked, a little frustrated. 

“How much we want you here! How much  _ I  _ want you, and need you, on the right side of this fight!”

Faith shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unable to look Buffy in the eye.

“You don’t even know me,” she said. “I know how that sounds but...you don’t. You don’t know what kind of person I really am, you see everything through this golden haze that’s always around you and you don’t see how it really is!”

“Then  _ tell  _ me!” Buffy yelled. “Tell me how it really is! That’s really all I’ve been asking for this whole time, just  _ talk  _ to me!”

Faith hesitated.

_ Whatcha gonna say? You haven’t been sober in weeks? You made a drug deal with a vampire and got someone killed?  _

“I tried to betray you.”

“And I forgave you.”

There wasn’t much Faith could say to that.

_ You shouldn’t have _ .

“Listen, B,” Faith started. But Buffy shook her head. She reached out a hand and placed it on Faith’s arm, and Faith didn’t pull back.

“Just come back with me tonight. We’ll work it out. We’ll get through it. You just have to let me in, Faith,  _ please _ .”

Faith couldn’t open her mouth to answer, but she jerked her head in a curt nod, and let Buffy lead her back towards the suburbs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith goes back to the Summer's house, where passions erupt

Faith and Buffy walked in silence for the entire sixteen minutes it took to get back to Buffy’s house. Faith couldn’t think of a thing to say now. She considered apologizing, but where to even begin? Her head still spun. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt clear-headed; actually clear-headed, not just high enough to think so. The effort made her head swirl more. 

Part of her wished Buffy would say something, break the silence. But a stronger part of her hoped she wouldn’t. She had said what Faith needed to hear, exactly what she needed to hear…

_ Hang on.  _

_ Are you that dumb? She says just about the only words that could have convinced you to stay?  _

_ Why are you so insistent on not trusting anyone? It’s  _ Buffy _.  _

_ And you  _ really  _ believe that  _ Buffy  _ needs  _ you?

Now Faith really wished Buffy would say something. She couldn’t seem to control her thoughts anymore.

“B,” she began, having no clue what she was going to say. But it didn’t matter. They had arrived at the Summers home, and there was no more time to say anything anyway. 

“Mom!” Buffy called as they stepped through the door. Joyce poked her head through the kitchen doorway. For a brief moment, her eyebrows knitted together as she saw Faith, but she quickly adjusted her face to a welcoming smile. 

“Faith, welcome!” she said. “I’d offer you a nice hot, home-cooked meal, but uh...well, I already ordered a pizza. Mom of the year, I know, but I didn’t know when you’d be home, Buffy. Will Faith be staying for dinner, then?”

“Yeah, and the night,” Buffy answered. Faith stood awkwardly behind her, wishing for the first time that she was tiny like Buffy, so she could hide behind the short blonde. “Slayer stuff.”

“Ah, Slayer stuff,” Joyce nodded knowingly. “Alright then, don’t be up too late. I’ll call you when the pizza gets here.”

Buffy gave her mom a thank-you smile, and started up the stairs.

“Thanks, Joyce. I mean, Mrs. Summers. Ms. Summers. Sorry. Thanks.”

Deep red, Faith hurried up the stairs after Buffy.

#

“I’d offer you the bed, but um...I don’t wanna sleep on the floor, honestly,” Buffy said, tossing a sleeping bag and pillow onto the floor of her room. 

“That’s cool,” Faith responded. “Guarantee it ain’t less comfy than that old mattress at the motel. You can bet a whole lot of people have done a whole lot of nasty things on that lumpy piece o’ shit.”

“Oh. Um, yeah,” Buffy said, visibly uncomfortable. Faith reddened a little, but said nothing else. 

“Anyway,” Buffy continued. “I think we should just get some rest, it’ll be a lot easier to figure out our next move with full stomachs and a good night’s sleep. Wanna take a shower while we wait for that pizza?”

With a powerful stimulant still pumping through her body, both pizza and sleep sounded like terrible ideas. But, stimulants or no, she did feel ragged, worn, and pretty gross. A hot shower sounded like the best thing in the world.

Buffy provided her with a fluffy, pinkish white towel and pointed her towards the bathroom. 

She took her time, letting the hot water run all over her body, enjoying the sensation. She took a sniff of all of the various soapy products in the shower, wondering what some of them were. She held a lavender-scented conditioner to her nose for a few extra seconds, almost laughing at its familiarity. So  _ this  _ was how Buffy smelled so absurdly good all the time. Lacking the mud, sweat, and blood smells they usually accumulated, of course.

After thoroughly soaping up with a particularly fragrant, fruity, expensive smelling “body wash”, Faith turned the water to scalding and sat in the tub. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the porcelain, inhaling deeply. 

She thought about that lavender scent again, even reaching for the bottle to remind her senses. It immediately conjured an image of Buffy’s soft, blonde hair as it swished over her shoulder in the wind.

With a sigh, Faith let her hand trail down her body, gently squeezing her breast before running it down between her thighs. She hadn’t felt this comfortable, this  _ relaxed  _ in...God knows how long. Ever?

She allowed her hand to finally stop roaming and settle where it had wanted to go all along. Slowly, gently, she placed a fingertip on her clit and rubbed slow circles. Her body responded with growing impatience, urging a more intense approach. She abandoned the pin-point circles and instead slipped her hand all the way between her legs, so the heel of her hand below her thumb pushed up against the area now screaming at her to be touched. Holding it there, she squeezed her thighs around her hand, pushing forward to get the pressure she craved.

With the scent of lavender soap in her nostrils, it didn’t take long. Her thighs clenched tight around her hand as a warm intensity built in her core, her head leaning back, back arching, until she came with a gasp. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it left her in a gush of released tension.

She lay there, head leaning on the tub, for a full minute before moving. She didn’t open her eyes until she felt the water begin to cool. Then, reluctantly, she stood, gave herself another once-over with the fruity soap, as sweat and other fluids had undone the work of her earlier shower, and shut off the water.

By the time she got back to Buffy’s room, wrapped in the fluffy pinkish white towel, Faith felt more herself than she had since she arrived in Sunnydale. Worries and memories tickled at the back of her mind, but she put them aside. She was  _ able  _ to put them aside. Until she opened the door to Buffy’s bedroom, that is.

Buffy sat on the floor, leaning against the frame of her bed. Faith’s leather jacket lay across her lap, and she held a small bag of white powder in her hand.

She looked up when Faith walked in. “What is this?” she demanded, holding up the bag.

“Baking soda?”

Buffy stood, fury written across her face. “I just put  _ everything  _ on the line for you, I brought you to my  _ home _ , I trusted you  _ again, _ and you’re carrying fucking... _ what the hell is this? _ ”

Faith stiffened. 

_ Told ya. First sign of the real you and she’s out. _

_ Pathetic. _

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, reaching out to grab the bag of hedony. But Buffy yanked it back with Slayer speed, dropping Faith’s jacket to the ground.

“Hey!” Faith protested. “That’s the most expensive thing I own.” She reached down to grab the jacket, while Buffy stared at her with an inscrutable expression. 

“Faith,” Buffy began. “I don’t know how to trust you when you’re doing shit like this. I mean, do you need, like...rehab?”

Now Faith actually laughed. “B, come on. I know you’re square, but you’re starting to sound like, I don’t know, an after school special or whatever. I like to live a little, ok, sue me. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Then tell me what this is. Cocaine? Weed? Heroin?”

“Uh...weed? Please tell me you don’t think weed is a white powder.”

“Stop deflecting,” Buffy snapped defensively. 

“I told you, it’s not of your goddamn business!” Faith yelled. “But if it’s such a fucking issue for you, flush it, see if I care.”

It had meant to sound angry, challenging, some sort of victory in this ridiculous argument. But Buffy looked surprised, and Faith realized she was taking her at her word.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so mad,” Buffy said. “Here.” She held the bag out to Faith. “You flush it.”

_ Fucking idiot _ .

Faith reached out a hand to take the bag. 

“It’s really not even necess--”

“Flush it,” Buffy said. “If we’re going to trust each other, I need to know you’re all here with me. Please.”

Clenching her jaw, Faith took the baggie from her friend and turned back towards the bathroom. She heard Buffy following a few steps behind. When she reached the toilet, she paused for a moment. One voice in her head told her to take the drugs and leave now, that Buffy was only proving right now that she didn’t actually trust her, that it would never work anyway. But a louder voice, a voice that sounded like Buffy and smelled like lavender, told her to flush it. So she did.

Buffy was beaming at her when she turned around, but her smile didn’t light a fire in Faith like it usually did. It just made her feel ashamed and annoyed as they re-entered Buffy’s room. 

Realizing she was still wearing a towel, Faith dropped it and reached for her pile of clothes now crumpled on the floor of Buffy’s room. She saw Buffy turn red and begin inspecting the collection of lipsticks on her vanity with studious intensity as she pulled on her underwear and bra.

“Um,” Buffy said, back still turned. Faith waited a moment, but there was no response for a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

“I have some old stuff I was gonna donate, doesn’t really fit me, if you want to borrow it?”

Faith considered this for a moment. “Wouldn’t mind,” she said eventually.

Buffy slipped past her, face still carefully averted, and dove into her closet. She emerged a few moments later with a cardboard box with “DONATE” written across it in large, red letters.

“Take anything you want,” she offered, pushing the box towards Faith. She opened it up and dug through a mess of fashionable and trendy tops, skirts, and pants, a surprisingly wide range of undergarments ranging from granny panties to fascinating g-strings. Selecting a pair of plain black boy-short style underwear, some comfy looking black workout pants with stripes up the sides, and a white T-shirt, she changed into the clean clothes. It wasn’t quite her usual style, but they fit surprisingly well. She wondered where Buffy had gotten such an assortment of clothing that clearly wouldn’t have fit the petite Slayer. 

“Totally decent,” she said to Buffy, who turned around with a flush in her cheeks. 

“Oh, those fit you well,” she said, surprised. “If you like anything in there, keep it. We were just gonna donate them anyway.”

“Thanks.”

There was a long pause, filled with tension.

“We should talk about the drugs,” Buffy said quietly. Her face was still red, but whether from Faith’s recent nakedness or the new topic of conversion, it was hard to tell. 

“What about ‘em?”

“You need to promise not to get fucked up anymore,” Buffy said. “I thought maybe if I just talked to that guy, Davey or whatev--”

“Don’t fucking talk about him,” Faith snapped with unexpected vitriol. Buffy pulled back.

_ She doesn’t even know he’s dead. _

“If you’re just gonna get defensive, I don’t know how we can move forward and trust each other,” Buffy said. “That guy is bad news, he’s a drug dealer, you need to be careful who you--”

“ _ Don’t _ fucking talk about him,” Faith hissed. Her heart pounded. 

“Jesus Christ, fine, then let’s talk about you! Let’s talk about why you’re hanging out with low-life drug dealers and--”

“I said SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Faith snapped. Davey’s face swam in her mind, his puppy-dog eyes when they first met, and the callous sneer on his face just before she turned him to dust. Buffy recoiled, but Faith barely noticed the surprise and hurt on her face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you sure as hell don’t have any right to tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

“Yeah, I guess I can’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to have opinions when you’re hanging around with drug dealers and  _ vampires, soulless  _ vampires, to be specific,  _ drug dealing soulless vampires _ . That  _ is  _ my problem.”

Faith stepped forward, fist clenched. Buffy tensed. They held each other’s gaze, annoyance meeting blind rage, then Faith stepped back. 

“Thanks for your hospitality,” she said flatly, then grabbed her leather jacket, turned on her heel, and fled down the stairs.

“Thanks for everything Joyce,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried out the door. She caught a glimpse of Joyce’s confused face before the door swung closed behind her and the night air welcomed her back.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith receives an unexpected job offer

Faith walked for almost an hour before she even stopped to think about what to do next. Buffy had offered her an olive branch, had vouched for her, had said she’d go to bat for her and have her back against the Council and the law and whatever else. But now? Had she just nuked her last chance of staying in Sunnydale?

There was still the option to run. She’d probably missed the last boat out tonight, but she knew how to lay low. She could find a quiet place to spend the night, and be at the docks for the first departures of the day. The detour to Buffy’s house was just that. A detour. A dumb, emotional detour that she was just stupid enough to think might be something else. So it goes.

But her feet had a different idea. In fact, she was almost on top of the warehouse where she’d first gotten into this mess with the hedony before she realized she was in the neighborhood. The warehouse, of course, would be empty. She’d slaughtered multiple runners, dealers, and suppliers there and she doubted they would reuse it after that. But vamps, like humans, are creatures of habit. She doubted they’d be far off.

She closed her eyes, letting her more primal senses take over. She listened, not only with her ears, but with her skin and gut, for the sound--the  _ sense-- _ of the unnatural. She found it so quickly, it made her jump.

When she opened her eyes again, two vampires stood practically in front of her. 

_ Dumbass. _

Tensed, Faith felt in her jacket for her back-up stake. To her relief, it was still tucked inside the secret pocket on her left side. 

“Slayer, Slayer, Slayer,” a voice called out. They were still in the shadows, but she could make out a tall form, unexpectedly wearing a well-tailored suit and a gold earring in one ear. “A pleasure, really!”

“I’ve seen you around,” Faith responded, carefully keeping her distance. “You worked with Kakistos.” Her hand shook, clenched tightly around the stake in her pocket.

“Oh, bygones, bygones, am I right? I’m just a man--well, no, we both know that’s just a figure of speech, but bear with me--a man-like creature of the night, lookin’ out for good old number 1. You know a thing or two about that, don’t you Faith?”

Faith stiffened.

“How do you know my name?”

The tall, dark vampire laughed. “Oh I know a  _ lot  _ about you, Faithy. In fact, I think you and I have a lot in common.”

“I don’t have anything in common with you,” Faith spat back immediately.

“No? You sure? A certain penchant for some fine, fine nose candy, for one. Not that I’m judging, not at all! Quite the opposite. I appreciate a girl who knows how to...have fun. But for two, you and I have an enemy in common.”

Faith paused. They now stood just a few yards away from each other. The other vamp hovered behind the closer vamp’s shoulder, flexing his muscles menacingly. 

“An enemy?”

“Yes, an enemy. The Slayer, of course. Excuse me, the  _ other  _ Slayer, I mean. Now, I came by the enmity through ancient, written-in-stone, mystical laws of good and evil, but you’ve got your own way of doin’ things, and I respect that. I respect that a lot.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Slayer, obviously. I did say that. Did I not say that?” He turned over his shoulder to look at his companion, who nodded vigorously.

“Yeah you said that, boss.”

“Thought so. The Slayer? Blonde, short, pretty cute, though not nearly as fine as you of course, my dear.” He cast an approving look over her, gaze resting briefly on her chest. Faith tensed even more.

“Buffy’s not my enemy,” she said. “I think you got some bad intel.”

“No? Oh, my mistake.” He stepped back, hands in the air. “I just thought after that phone call we intercepted with that pesky Watcher’s Council, you two were on the outs.”

“What phone call? When?” Faith couldn’t keep the interest from showing in her voice. The vamp gave a satisfied smile. 

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” he said. “I’m Mr. Trick. I work for...well, that’s information for a later time.” He held out his hand, an insidiously friendly smile on his face. Faith stared at the hand, her expression flat. After a moment, he pulled it back, though his smile didn’t falter. 

“Maybe you need a little more proof,” he said. He pulled out a small, portable tape player and hit the ‘play’ button. A staticky, garbled voice spoke out from it.

“This is Mr. Alan Barcourt, Watcher’s Council. Who am I speaking with?”

There was a pause, then an equally garbled female voice rose from the device.

“Buffy. Summers. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. From, um, Sunnydale California?”

“I know who you are.”

“Okay, yeah, good. I’m calling because Faith Lehane, the um, the other Slayer, she’s at my house. She’ll be here all night. You can come get her.”

Faith froze. That couldn’t be. When would Buffy have called the Council? The answer provided itself immediately.

_ While you were in the shower, dumbass. Distracted by lavender shampoo and conditioner. Pathetic. _

“Very well,” the male voice said, and the tape cut out.

Mr. Trick looked at Faith expectantly. 

“You could’ve faked that,” she said, desperately. “Some staticky, garbled voice on a tape doesn’t prove anything.”

Mr. Trick smiled kindly at her. “No? I suppose not. But then, what about Davey?”

Faith felt her heart skip a beat, almost making her cough. 

“What about Davey?”

“Oh, nothing, really...I mean, I suppose it’s not my place, Slayer drama and all that. But it’s just, well...he seemed like such a nice young lad. Drug dealer, sure, but who of us haven’t dabbled here and there? I respect an enterprising young man. And to meet a fate so dark, because of one spiteful Slayer...a real shame.” He shook his slowly to emphasize the shame.

“What are you talking about? That wasn’t Buffy’s fault. That was my fault, he went to find them because of me--”

“Oh, is that what she told you? So she didn’t tell you that she caught up with one of our young businessmen--excuse me, businessvamps--and told him exactly where to find the Slayer’s strung-out little boytoy?”

“That’s a lie. Buffy wouldn’t do that.” Buffy wouldn’t do that. Buffy would  _ never  _ do that.

“No? My, my, it seems I’ve got a lot of bad information here. See, I was led to believe that Ms Summers, Buffy as you call you--curious name, a little silly, honestly--didn’t think too much of drug dealers.”

“Well, no, of course not, but she wouldn’t send  _ vampires  _ after one, that’s crazy--”

“Not even if he was getting in the way of what she wanted?”

Faith shook her head, but doubt gnawed at her. 

“Not even if she thought that doing so was the right thing to do? The only way to get a powerful ally back on track, back in  _ line _ ?”

“You’re lying,” Faith said weakly. “She wouldn’t.”

Mr. Trick shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I got bad intel. But that’s all way beside the point. The point is, I’m here with an offer for you.”

Faith’s hands shook. Her head ached. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her hands, her chest. 

“An offer?” she repeated warily.

“That’s right. You see, your shenanigans have created quite a situation for my boss. He likes to keep clear of these things, of course, I’m sure you’d understand. But with a supplier and several runners now getting huffed into the lungs of Sunnydale residents and blown about on these warm California winds...well, long story short, we’ve got some openings. We can offer you a very comfortable life, Faith.”

“Your boss...is the Mayor, isn’t he?” Faith said, pieces clicking in her head. For the first time, Mr. Trick looked genuinely surprised. 

“My boss is someone with a lot of power,” he said. “He’d like to remain anonymous for the time being, but perhaps in time, after you’ve worked your way up the food chain, as it were--”

“I don’t do drone work,” Faith hissed. Mr. Trick barely had time to flinch before she was within inches of him, but he wasn’t her target. Instead, she brushed past him and plunged her stake into the heart of his companion.

“Damn, Slayer, that was just unnecessary,” Mr. Trick said, brushing dust from his suit jacket. 

“I don’t accept your offer,” Faith hissed, turning to him. They were now just a couple of feet apart. He took two steps backwards.

“Really, now, Slayer, I came here with a bona fide job offer, good pay, benefits--well, maybe not health insurance exactly, but there are definitely benefits--and you repay me and my boss with violence?”

“Take off your jacket,” Faith demanded. Once more, Mr. Trick looked genuinely surprised by this turn of events.

“I mean, alright Slayer, but I don’t think it’s gonna fit you.”

Faith ignored this as she took the jacket from him, rummaging through its pockets. Finally, she pulled a medium-sized amber vial from one of the inside pockets.

“Oh, come on now, that’s medicinal.”

“Medicinal hedony?” Faith asked, the vial now open in her hand. She tapped a tiny bit of the white powder onto the base of her thumb, and brought it up to her nose. Still only just coming down from her last dose, it hit immediately, flooding her with relief from the emotional toll of the night’s events.

“Alright, Mr. Trick,” Faith said. “You’ve got my attention. Rather, your  _ boss  _ has my attention. Maybe you read me right, after all. I’m game. But first, I need something from you.”

Relief showed on Mr. Trick’s face. 

“What’s that, then?”

“Well, you see, I have a score to settle. Some vamps killed a friend of mine, you see. Good guy. Drug dealer, but a good guy.”

Mr. Trick shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I really couldn’t say who killed your...friend, I mean, it’s not exactly, that is...well--”

“No, no, don’t misunderstand me,” Faith said, a dangerous edge in her voice. “I’m not asking you for names. I just want revenge. You don’t need to do anything but die.”

Realizing her intent, Mr. Trick’s face transformed, bumps rising across his forehead, teeth elongating, eyes yellowing. But he was too late.

“Ah, fu--” he breathed as he turned to dust.

Faith stood in the now-empty street, breathing heavily despite expending almost no effort for her two recent kills.

Had Buffy really betrayed her? The tape recording had sounded like her...hadn’t it? A staticky, garbled version of her, but…

And Davey? Had this Mr. Trick been telling the truth there? Buffy talked a big game about the value of human life, but she had also made her hatred for Davey’s lifestyle clear. And as Mr. Trick had said, Buffy might have a stick up her ass, but she would cross a lot of lines when she thought it was in the name of doing the right thing. She’d seen that herself, with Angel, hiding him away. 

A combination of rage and grief surged in Faith, but a new boost of hedony in her system kept it from overwhelming her. This person, this pathetic, moping, second-guessing, over-thinking person wasn't her. She was the fucking Slayer. And what's more, she was Faith fucking Lehane. It was time she started acting like it again. Enough worrying about what Buffy thought, enough trying to win Buffy's approval, Giles' approval, anyone's approval. They would only ever see the fuck-up they expected to see, and why should that be her problem?

Making her decision, she straightened her shoulders, and turned around.

#

Less than fifteen minutes later, Faith was standing in front of a wooden door. She reached out to knock, but it swung open. In the doorway stood the Mayor of Sunnydale, one Mr. Wilkins. They sized each other up for a moment.

“I’m here about your job offer,” she said flatly. The Mayor raised his eyebrows.

“I must say, I expected to hear from Mr. Trick tonight, not yourself. Not that I’m not pleased to see you, of course.” He flashed her a bizarrely fatherly grin.

“He’s dust,” Faith told him, watching his face. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. His smile didn't falter.

“Yes, I rather thought that might be the case.”

“Yeah, well, that means you’ve got a much better job opening than drug-running gruntwork or whatever you wanted from me.”

The Mayor smiled. “I suppose that’s true,” he said. He stepped back and held the door open for her. “Let’s have a chat.”


End file.
